


Terminal Velocity

by AppleCherry108



Series: Cats and Dogs [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cliche, Falling In Love, Feelings Jams, First Dates, First Kiss, Fluff, Lactose Intolerant Keith, M/M, Sappy, Texting, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, background shallura - Freeform, broganes, never ending date, soft klance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2019-02-19 04:17:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13115853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AppleCherry108/pseuds/AppleCherry108
Summary: "He said yes!!" Lance twirls around and shoves his phone in his friend's face.Hunk groans and pushes it aside. "Who said yes?""Keith!""Who's Keith?"Or,Lance and Keith's first date. (Sequel toMiss Scarlet[...])





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well.  
> Since ya'll liked _Miss Scarlet_ so much, here I am. Back at it again with that Soft Klance. :v
> 
> Yes it's a multi-chapter. I DO know where I'm going, just don't ask me how many chapters it'll end up being. >.>
> 
> Enjoy! <3

Lance screams. He bolts upright from where he'd flopped down on one of the couches in the den, clutching his phone tightly with shaking hands.

 

**09:09AM: its a date ;)**

 

The words stare back at him, completely real and _not hallucinated_  right in front of his eyes. He screams again, this time the ecstatic sound petering off into a choked-off, near-silent whine. He whirls around to Missy, who's still curled up around Baloo's squeaky toy, and points aggressively at his phone, grinning uncontrollably. His cat blinks at him slowly, entirely used to such high-energy antics. She meows cheerfully at him though:  _"Good job."_

Lance's face starts to hurt but he couldn't stop smiling even if he wanted to. He brings his phone back up, only inches from his eyes. The text is still there; still real. Keith sent it.  _Keith_. Another excited noise works its way up Lance's throat.  _Keith_. A swarm of butterflies erupts around his ribs.  _Keith Keith Keith Keith Keith Keith Keith Keith—_

Lance buries his face in the couch cushions, managing to muffle another squeal. He has to tell someone, someone who appreciates English more than his cat.

"Hunk!"

Lance scrambles to his feet and dashes through the kitchen and up the stairs, stumbling a little bit on the first few steps. "Hunk!" he practically yells again. "Hunk!" He repeatedly slaps an open palm against the door. Hunk's is the last bedroom down the hall. Of Lance's eight other housemates, he gets along best with Hunk. Lance would even say they're friends.

The door swings away from his hand and an incredibly grumpy Hunk appears before him. "Lance I swear to God—" Lance ignores him and pushes his way into the room. Really, Lance and Hunk are  _best friends_ but it's early morning bullshittery like this that tests that rock solid title. Hunk just sighs and closes his door behind him.

"He said yes!!" Lance twirls around and shoves his phone in his friend's face.

Hunk groans and pushes it aside, opting to fall back onto his mattress instead. "Who said yes?"

"Keith!"

"Who's Keith?"

Lance sighs dreamily and practically swoons onto the bed, melting across his friend. " _Keith_ is the hottest, most handsome, _beautifully adorable—_ "

"Lance, I've never even heard you mention this guy before." Hunk groans and throws an arm over his eyes.

Lance props himself up on his elbows. "I met him this morning!"

There's a long pause before Hunk peeks an exhausted eye out from under his arm. " _What._ "

"Okay, so FedEx was banging on the door at, like, _fucknuts early_ this morning, yeah? And Olia had a late shift so she wasn't home to answer, and none of you guys can ever hear—"

" _Lance._ "

"—Okay, okay. So anyway I open the door and Missy runs out, but she scares the delivery guy and he drops all his boxes which startles her and she  _takes off running down the street—_ "

"Lance! Who's Keith?"

"Alright! Jeez! So long story short I run into this guy looking for his dog while I'm out looking for Missy. He's super cute. Like,  _so cute_. Hunk, oh my God. I know you're not into guys but  _dios mio_  he's soo hot. And he was shirtless!  _God_ , he was  _so worried_ about his dog he chased after her half naked! In winter! He's beautiful and sweet and—"

" _Lance..._ " Hunk practically sobs and smacks Lance with a pillow. "It's too early for this."

Lance can't help but laugh. He leans forward and scrubs the back of his head, further mussing his bedhead. "I know,  _I know_ , I'm just.  _So fucking excited_. _Hunk_ , I didn't even tell you about our Moment. We had a _Moment,_ Hunk! Like a full on  _Disney Moment!_ It—it was _magical._ " Lance sighs and falls back into the mattress. He knows he's acting like a damn schoolgirl, but  _God_. He just couldn't help it. "And it was all Missy's doing!" he adds. As if on cue, a little red paw appears under the door, accompanied by a lonely little  _meow_.

"Lance..." Hunk sighs. "You met him this morning? Don't you think...you know...you might be getting a little  _too_ invested in this guy?" Lance shoots him his poutiest glare. Hunk cuts him off before he can defend himself. "What'd he even say yes too?"

"Oh!" Lance fumbles his phone as he passes it to his friend. He can feel himself practically vibrating as he watches Hunk's eyes scan the short conversation. " _He_ called it a date!  _He_ did, Hunk! And he used a winky face! That's a good sign, right? Right?! It means he likes me t—"

"You didn't reply."

Those three little words completely derail Lance's train of thought and it feels like it takes seven years for his brain to process their meaning. "Huh?" he manages at last.

Hunk hands the phone back. Lance stares down at Keith's beautiful text. "Dude, if you're so hung up on this guy, why didn't you reply?"

Lance stares at the bright screen, mind reeling, still trying to decipher Hunk's meaning. Reply? What reply? Keith's reply is right there! His wonderful, joyous...lonely...unanswered reply. The gears finally click into place. He screams; Hunk winces.

He didn't reply! How could he have not replied?! Keith said yes not even seconds after Lance asked him out! How could he leave hin hanging for nearly five whole minutes?! Lance's brain and mouth are just a continuous panicked scream as he frantically taps out a message and hits send. "Okay! Wait,  _no!_ I can't just—" He taps out another text. "—Awesome!  _Wait no_ , cool!  _Argh!_ Let me just—" More taps. "— _There!_ "

Hunk leans over curiously, craning his neck to try and glimpse the conversation. "What'd you say?"

"I asked him if he wanted to do lunch, so. Plans. I'm making plans." Lance takes a deep breath. "Although..." He bites away a barely contained smile as sends another text. "I'm not sure I can't wait that long!"

Hunk gives him a flat look. "Dude. You're coming on too strong again."

" _Shit, shit, shit._ " Lance hastily taps out another text. And another...and another. His hands are shaking now. He looks up at Hunk, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes wide with panic.

Hunk frowns. "Lance? Did you double text him?"

Lance swallows hard. "No." he lies. "I..." He glances down at the conversation and counts the texts. "...nine-tuple texted him." His face falls.

"Oh, Lance..." Hunk sighs, sounding how Lance feels.

He  _always_ does this. He always comes on too strong and moves too fast. But he's excited! He's a romantic! He tells himself he can't help it, but suddenly realizes that this is how he shoots himself in the foot  _every time_.

He sucks in a breath, heart coming to a full stop. He did it again, didn't he? He wrecked his chances before he could even take them.

A weight settles in his chest; a tight, heavy, defeated thing that squashes every butterfly that had just moments ago been thriving. He lets his hands fall into his lap, his head dipping with them. He can't cry, not in front of Hunk. If he does, he's just going to get the same old tired lecture about wearing his heart on his sleeve. Lance knows— _he knows—_ he rushes these things. He just...feels things _so strongly,_  but that scares other people away. And he really liked Keith! He really thought—

His phone chimes loudly, scaring his heart into his throat. Hunk's eyes go wide and he darts his gaze from Lance to the phone and back again. Lance gulps, hands trembling as he slides his phone unlocked.

 

**09:17AM: see you at 12 :)**

 

"So?" Hunk prompts after a long moment. "What'd he say?"

Lance just stares, stunned into silence. He opens and closes his mouth, almost forming words and looking like a fish. "He'll...be here at noon." he says quietly, barely above a whisper.

Hunk's eyes go impossibly wider. " _Whoa._ " he says just as softly.

_Meow_  says Missy, now with _two_ paws curled under the door.

Reality finally catches up with Lance. "He'll be here at noon." he repeats, a little louder this time.

"Yeah."

"He'll be here at noon!"

" _Yeah._ "

"I have a date at noon!" he cries joyously, bouncing up and down.

" _Yeah!_ " Hunk laughs.

Lance gasps. " _I have a date at noon._ " he says hollowly, stilling immediately. He turns wide, terrified eyes to Hunk. "I have less than three hours to get ready."

Hunk lets out an affectionate sigh and slaps a large hand down on Lance's shoulder. "You'll be fine."

"But—!" Lance starts to flail as Hunk pushes him off the bed and towards the door. "What do I wear? Where will we go? Should I get him flowers? What should I do with my hair?!"

"Just," Hunk opens his door, "take it slow. You'll be fine." He shoves Lance over the threshold and quickly shuts the door behind him. Before Lance can form another protest, Hunk sing-songs another cheery, "You'll be fine!" from the other side of the door.

Lance stands in the hall for a long minute, whispering to himself. "I'll be fine. Yeah,  _I'll be fine._ " He looks down to see Missy staring up at him, her tail swishing impatiently. He grins at the cat. "I have a date!" he whispers excitedly.

She chirps back at him.  _"You're welcome."_

 


	2. Chapter 2

Time was short.

Normally, when Lance was getting ready for a date, he'd make a day of it. He'd wake up early and, although he'd already have the perfect plan in place, he'd take hours to prepare and meticulously go over every last detail of said plan. He wasn't a perfectionist, he just needed things to be perfect. Okay, that sounds like perfectionism, but really he just wants to impress his date. Look his best,  _be_ his best—nothing but the best for the beholder of his affections.

But he has less than three hours until Keith comes over. And that's stressful.

He runs through his regular morning routine as quickly as possible but that still takes over an hour. 10:30; okay. He can do this. He still has time. Call him Extra, but Lance's flare for the dramatic can be quite encouraging sometimes. The second he's in his room, door shut, he turns on his music: a playlist aptly named _John Cusack Holding a Boombox_ , and it's filled with exactly the kind of 80s pop songs one would expect from a teen movie montage.

Missy slinks in just as Lance starts raiding his closet to a stylish Madonna tune. Time becomes a blur of synthpop and costume changes. Missy plays her part of the sassy popular girl helping the ugly duckling find his style. Or well, Lance pretends she does. Her opinions are limited to blinks and tail flicks, but he takes it as approval when she starts purring as he shows her the outfit he ultimately decides on: casual fit jeans, a white and blue raglan, and his favorite jacket. Missy convinces him to ditch the accompanying snapback by batting it off his head and chewing on the rim. Impeccable fashion taste as always, Sassy Popular Girl.

He looks good, he does. Lance would prefer to look a lot  _nicer_ but he's trying to follow Hunk's orders: take it slow. Be cool. Act casual. Lance does a little spin in front of his full length mirror. Casual, right... He frowns. Is he...too casual? Shit. He wants to impress Keith, maybe he should wear something tighter? Wait no, that might give him the wrong impression. Not that he—you know—wouldn't  _like_   _tighter..._

Missy meows at him from atop the dresser. "I'm not flustered!" he cries back, face red and very flustered. Lance groans and sinks onto his bed. Missy leaps the gap with surprising grace and plants herself on his chest. He begrudgingly pets her. "I just... I'm not even going to think about that. I'm going slow, remember?" Missy stares at him with that judgmental look of hers; Lance glares right back. "Slow means _not_ being a _horny douchebag_."

She blinks at him before settling into a purring ball: her closest approximation to a shrug. Lance scoffs, but keeps petting her.

"Slow and casual. It's just a date. I'll be fine." he mutters, trying not to psych himself up. So what if he really likes Keith? So what if his mental image of him is surrounded by hearts and flowers and softens around the edges like an old school romance film? He barely knows him. And what could Lance possibly glean from what little he _does_ know about Keith, huh? That he's impulsive in the best way? That he puts the needs and safety of those he cares about before himself? That he's empathetic to the problems of a stranger even when he's unhappy with said stranger?

Lance groans loudly and covers his burning face with his hands. "Missy..." he whines, dragging his hands away. "Missy, I think I'm falling..."

His cat barely spares him a glance before she's sitting upright, ears perked up, eyes wide like her Kitten Senses are tingling. She bounds off of Lance, the force of which knocks the air out of him. It takes a second for him to recover but once he does, he becomes aware of a soft rumbling. Missy darts out of his room, crying loudly. The rumbling fades out and before Lance can even wonder what the noise was.

There's a knock on the door.

He freezes. What? _No._ It can't be noon already, can it? He glances down at his phone: 11:32. Missy is still screaming her head off in the hall, though, so Lance hesitantly gets up and goes to the front door, hoping to God that it's just another delivery guy. He nearly has a heart attack when he catches a glimpse of the familiar mop of black hair beyond one of the veiled windows.  _Fuck, fuck, fuck!_ He's not ready yet! He hasn't even made any plans! Where will they go? Again,  _should he buy him flowers?_

Missy continues to yell, stretching up and pawing at the doorknob. Lance bites the bullet and opens the door. Good Lord Almighty, he was not prepared. And he _definitely_ regrets his clothing choice.

Keith stands before him, in all his beautiful, slightly awkward glory. Black skinny jeans, black shirt, a  _cropped jacket_ , tall boots, and  _fingerless gloves._ How?? How is this boy real?? Lance is sure in this exact moment that he dreamed up Keith, because no real human could possibly make  _80s anime_ look so damn good.

Keith smiles.

"Sorry, I know I'm a bit early."

Lance quickly shakes his head and steps aside. "No! You're good! I actually just finished getting ready myself!" Lies. All lies. He still hasn't made any plans and now he needs a wardrobe change. Fuck casual, Lance wants to put on a tuxedo and get down on one knee this instant. Or more practically, he knows there's a bomber jacket and a turtleneck in his closet that's begging to be worn next to this walking advertisement for  _Akira_.

But it's probably too late for that. Keith's smile brightens at Lance's words and he couldn't bear to make Keith wait around while his high-maintenance ass goes through another clothing montage.

"You look nice." The offhanded comment gives Lance pause. Nice? What? No, no. He looks like a rag doll next to the Statue of David. But before Lance can open his mouth, Keith gives him a nervous laugh. "I feel silly. I think I may have overdressed."

Is that? Blush? Is he blushing? Oh my God, he's _embarrassed_. Lance's heart melts. "You mean you don't  _always_ dress like a hot biker?" Keith outright laughs at that; Lance grins.

"Only when I'm trying to impress someone." he admits, tucking a stray hair behind his ear.

Lance is dead. Dead with a capital D. _'Impress someone.'_  Keith wants to  _impress_ him. Dios mio, Lance is _gone._ His soul has left his body. If someone cracked open his skin like a piñata, a billion butterflies would come bursting out. If he had tried to make words with his mouth right then, all that came out was a squeak, but he couldn't really tell. His brain was currently a fuzzy, giddy mess.

"I," Oh God that crack. Lance clears his throat. "Well I think you look great. Crop top and all." He winks at him; Keith snorts.  _Ugh_ , his laughs shouldn't be allowed to be that  _cute_. "And hey! Looks like you  _do_ actually own shirts!"

Keith just rolls his eyes and crosses his arms. "I  _told_ you."

Lance tuts at him. "Seeing is believing, my good dude. Oh!" Missy takes that moment to bump his leg, reminding him that she exists.

"Hey, Miss Scarlet." Keith coos, bending down and reaching for the cat. She practically runs into his arms. "Long time no see." Missy lets out a very pleased, very  _loud_ mewl as if she hadn't just seen him a few hours ago. What a dramatic brat. She gets it from her dad.

Lance grins at the pair. "Yes,  _excellent_. Keep distracting him!" He says as he turns around and dashes back to his room.

"What're you doing?" Keith calls.

"Two seconds!" Lance calls back.

Keith exchanges a look with the cat, but true to his word, Lance comes sprinting back before he knows it. "Okay! Ready to roll!"

Keith eyes him up and down. "Backpack?"

Lance shifts the bag where its slung over his shoulder. "Yep! Y'know, for when I totally get bored and wanna get a head start on my calc homework." The look Keith gives him has enough doubt in it that it makes Lance regret the joke. "Kidding." he adds hurriedly. Keith visibly relaxes. "I promise you there's absolutely nothing school-related in here."

"Then why bring it?"

"What? Girls get to take purses everywhere but I can't have a backpack?" Keith rolls his eyes and gives him a lopsided frown that fails miserably at not being a smirk.

"So then what's in there?"

Lance grins and winks at him again. "It's a surprise."

If Keith's adorably pink cheeks are anything to go by, the vague answer is good enough for him. "So. You ready then?" he asks, voice uneven.

"Yep!" Lance reaches over and takes Missy from him. "Alright. Daddy will be back later. Be good. Stay in school. Don't do catnip." She licks his nose. Lance laughs and puts her down. When he looks back up, Keith is wearing the softest smile Lance has ever seen in his life.

Again, butterfly piñata.

Lance follows Keith out the door, turning to lock it and noticing how Keith just straight up jumps over the two whole steps leading down from the porch. Adorable.

You know what's not adorable though? His bike.

" _Hot._ " Lance whispers, awestruck as his eyes land on the cherry-red ride.

Keith, who's already straddling the seat _(double hot)_ , turns to look back at him. "What?"

"I said nice bike!" he covers cheerfully.

"Thanks, I built it myself."

Lance splutters at that. "You  _built_ it?!"

Keith laughs. "Well okay, my brother helped. A lot."

Lance whistles lowly nonetheless. "Still hella impressive, dude." he says as he climbs on behind Keith. Oh yes. This is Perfect. He'd die happy if he got rides to class like this.

"Here." Keith hands Lance a matching red helmet. "I only have one, so if I crash at least you can't sue me." Lance giggles as he tugs it on. Keith flicks the kickstand up. "And I know this sounds clichéd, but hang on tight."

Lance doesn't argue, just gleefully wraps his arms around Keith's waist. Oh yes. He'd die  _so_ happy. He presses closer, unabashedly wiggling his hips a bit. Lance doesn't think he's ever been so comfortable in his life. Keith is warm beneath his arms. Warm and soft. Very soft...

_Familiarly soft..._

"Wait a second." Lance chirps as the bike roars to life. "This is _my_ shirt!"

Keith revs the engine. "No it's not."

"It's covered in cat hair!"

"Sorry, I can't," Keith revs the bike again, "I can't hear you."

Lance laughs as they roll into the street. He squeezes Keith just a little tighter and rests his head between his shoulders. "Yeah," he whispers, voice drowned out by the near-deafening engine, "definitely falling."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It occurs to me just now that I'm not repeating certain details from _Miss Scarlet_ , like the nine texts Lance sent, Missy's pet door, or the shirt Keith borrowed. If anything seems vaguely out of place, read part 1 of this series, please. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	3. Chapter 3

"So where we going?"

Shit. Lance had hoped that Keith, the driver, had already picked a locale. Then again, Lance had asked  _him_ out, so he supposes it's only fair that he choose the destination. His mind is blank, though.

"Uhh," Lance says intelligently. They had only gotten as far as the end of the block, idling at the corner beneath the street sign. "What're you in the mood for?"

Keith shrugs.

"Okay, how hungry are you?"

Another shrug.

Oh Keith, so beautiful but _so_ indecisive. He can't make it easy, can he?

Lance wracks his brain. Hunk's annoying advice comes back to him.

"Go left." Lance instructs, pointing past Keith.

They continue through the winding streets of the neighborhood until they finally break free of the houses and onto a main road. Lance doesn't understand how Keith isn't freezing his butt off in that tiny jacket. The temperature had thankfully gone up since their little petscapade earlier, but it was still low 40s at best, and the wind sheer of an unshielded motorcycle wasn't helping any. Even with his fleece-lined jacket, a helmet, and Keith's warm body pressed against him, Lance still felt like a popsicle. He wasn't built for winter. He was a summer child through and through. Give him clear skies and a sunny beach any day. Hell, he'd even take sweltering humidity over temperatures below 60.

As they approach the nearby shopping district, Lance has to use nudges to direct Keith over the loud roar of the bike. The area is a sprawling amalgamation of strip malls, restaurants, shops, and businesses. It's also clogged with holiday traffic this time of year. Luckily, they don't need to venture too far into the belly of the capitalist beast.

They pull into a narrow parking lot near a handful of smaller buildings.

"Hope this is okay." Lance says as he tugs the helmet off. He watches as Keith kills the engine and stares curiously at the rustic wooden sign in front of them:  _Balmera Coffee House_.

Keith hums and Lance can just barely see the edge of his smile. "More fancy coffee?" he jokes and turns around. Keith's eyes widen and a small snort escapes through his nose.

"What?"

Keith fails to bite back a smile. "You, uh," he reaches out a hand, and before Lance can process what's happening, Keith is petting his hair—smoothing it down. " _Helmet hair._ " he giggles quietly.

Lance's face lights up. He isn't sure if he's embarrassed or in total  _awe_ of the sight before him. Keith is gorgeous. He's also one to talk. His hair is windswept from the drive, but the look works for him. His cheeks and nose are flushed a pretty pink from the cold air, but really it's his smile that does Lance in. It's so soft, and  _fond_ , and Good Lord, Lance can practically _feel_ the arrow digging into his chest.

 _Take it slow,_ Hunk's sagely words echo around his head.

Lance clears his throat. "Shall we?" Keith nods and they both climb off the bike. Keith gets another good laugh though as Lance stumbles around his first few steps; his legs feel like they're still vibrating from the engine, making them about as supportive as jelly. Keith's solution is to wrap an arm around his waist while Lance regains his footing.

_Take it slow take it slow take it slow—_

Lance has to use all his willpower to only grip Keith's shoulder for support, successfully resisting the urge to pull him closer instead.

The inside of the cafe is like a desert oasis. The second the door opens, they're greeted with a wave of warm air, rich with the scent of fresh cookies; a stark contrast to the biting chill of the outside. It's like being wrapped up in a hug. The girl behind the counter turns at the sound of the little bell over the door.

"Greetings! Welcome to—oh! Hello, Lance!" The girl smiles brightly when she recognizes him. She's tall—taller than Lance, with broad shoulders and killer guns for arms.

"Gooooood morning, Shay!" he sings and leans across the counter. "How's my favorite barista slash pastry chef?"

She giggles bodily; her shoulders shake, making her short, thick hair bounce with them. "I am well, thank you. And who may I ask is your friend?"

Lance glances back at Keith and is momentarily surprised: Keith lingers a step behind him, brows knitted together. His face is set in a frown and he's just barely not looking at Lance. He looks...upset? Why would...

_No way._

Lance leans back off the counter and throws an arm over Keith's shoulders, tugging him into a hug. "This is Keith! We're on our first date!" He says it proudly with a huge grin, watching Keith as he talks. A little smile tugs the sour look off his face and a faint blush dusts over his cheeks: Lance grins wider and hugs him just a little closer.

He cannot  _believe—_

Keith was jealous! For a split second he was actually _jealous_ of a friendly barista! While some people might find that childish, Lance thought it was  _adorable_. No one had ever been protective of him like that before. It made his heart swell to think Keith liked him that much already.

Shay returns his bright smile. "I am honored to have your patronage for such a joyous occasion! Please," she gestures to the large glass display case, "you may choose any of our confections, free of charge, to celebrate your courtship. And also," she giggles again, "because you are my friend."

Lance gives her another toothy grin just as a customer calls her attention away. He turns to Keith instead. "So?"

Keith gives him a little smirk and leans into their embrace. "She's certainly...enthusiastic." he says with a hint of sarcasm.

"She's a  _friend_ , and a damn fine pastry chef." Lance corrects. Keith makes a teasing hum. "And anyway, I meant  _so,_ what looks good?" Lance asks, gesturing with his free hand to the food on display.

Keith gets as far as opening his mouth and taking a breath before he snaps it shut with a little  _pop_. He bites over a smile, flushed cheeks darkening. Lance gapes at him.

Seriously,  _how_ is this boy real?? Lance knows that look, that  _"I'm just gonna shut up"_  little withdraw.

_'What looks good?'_

_'You.'_

Good  _Lord_ , Lance is going to explode.

Instead, he clicks his tongue and bites back a grin. He takes Keith’s hand into his own, gently stroking his thumb over his knuckles. Keith turns the color of his bike.

" _Well_ , the quiche is really good. So are the muffins. I particularly enjoy their donuts—"

"Pancakes."

"What?"

Keith nods not at the display case, but at the sandwich board above them. "Double chocolate chip pancakes."

Lance grins. "Sweet tooth, eh?"

"Meh." Keith shrugs.

"You ever tried a mocha?"

"A what?"

"Chocolate. In your coffee."

Keith pauses, and then turns bright, wide,  _adorable, shining_ eyes up at Lance. "You can _do_ that?" he asks quietly.

Lance can't help but laugh. He  _can_ , however, resist giving Keith a little kiss on his forehead. He opts to rub his shoulder affectionately instead.

"What about you? What do you want?"

Lance quirks an eyebrow at him. "You ask that like you plan on paying for it."

Keith's brows crease into a little pout. "Yeah?"

Lance scoffs, releasing his hold on the other boy in order to put a hand on his hip. "Uh,  _no?_ I asked you out, therefore _I'm_ paying for this date."

Keith scoffs right back at him. "I have a job."

"A  _part-time_ job."

"I don't pay rent."

"Well I—" Lance pauses. That... _is_ a pretty good reason, actually. It's not like Lance has a lot of pocket change left over from his student loans. He shakes his head. "I want to treat you."

Keith opens his mouth but his retort dies in his throat. His lips purse back together in an adorable little pout, but the lovely blush working its way back up his face betrays him. "Why don't we just go Dutch?" he says finally, voice sounding like a bowl of Rice Crispy.

Lances grins something mischievous and raises a hand in feigned shock. " _Dutch?!_ On our  _first date!? Sir,_ what kind of trollop do you take me for?"

Keith's face lights up like a Christmas tree. " _It means we both pay half!_ " he squeaks defensively, and _oh my God_ , flustered is a  _fantastic_ look on him.

Lance can't hold back his delight anymore. "I know, I know! I'm just playing!" he laughs. Keith huffs and crosses his arms, face still a lovely bonfire all the way up to his ears.  _Aww, pouty boy._ "Okay, okay, if it means that much to you, we can split the check. I  _guess_ I can set aside my gentlemanly tendencies just this once." Lance gives him a little wink; Keith crosses his arms tighter but can't hide the way he's obviously biting back a smile.

Shay returns then to take their order. Keith does indeed get his pancakes, and a very large mocha, with extra whipped cream and drizzle and little chocolate shavings. Honestly, Lance doesn't think he can get much cuter: Keith orders like a child set loose at a sundae bar, but in his defensive, Shay kept prompting him with extra fixin’s. Still, the way Keith's eyes lit up every time she suggested an additional chocolaty add-on was downright precious.

"Is Rax here?" Lance asks when Shay turns to him.

She shakes her head. "He is not. His shift today begins at three."

Lance sighs with relief. "Oh good, I'll have my usual then." Shay giggles and enters his order on the tablet-register. Keith quirks an eyebrow at him curiously but remains silent for now; Lance smiles at him apologetically. "Oh! Free pastry!" Lance nods back towards the case, successfully diverting Keith's attention while he quickly slides his card to Shay. By the time Keith looks back, Shay is asking him if he wants his receipt.

Keith balks. "Hey!"

Lance can only grin and shrug at him as he puts his card away, none too sheepish under the least effective glare he's ever received. Keith continues to pout but follows Lance over to a small table tucked away in the corner by the window.

"That was a dirty trick." he mumbles as he takes a seat.

Lance's smile softens. "Why does me paying for your chocolate bother you so much?" And, _oh God_ , Lance _technically_ bought him chocolate on their first date, didn't he? He wonders if it still counts as a cheesy cliché if it’s pancake form.

Keith slumps forward, elbows on the table, and gives a small shrug. "I'm not... I mean..." Should it be that adorable that he can't meet Lance's eyes? Keith sighs. "People don't just  _give_ me things."

Oh.

Lance frowns. "You mean like... You don't get a lot of gifts in general, or people use them as leverage against you?"

Another shrug. "Both, I guess."

Lance's stomach twists as he watches the other boy. His frown deepens as he reconsiders how cute Keith's avoidance actually is. "Hey," he reaches across the table to squeeze Keith's hand, "I'm sorry. I thought we were playing chivalry chicken, I didn't think it would upset you." He gives him a warm smile; Keith finally meets his gaze, returning the kind look. Lance has to ignore the way his heart flutters, reminding himself that this is  _not_ another Disney Moment. "I don't expect anything from you, promise."

"You say 'first date' a lot like you expect we'll have a second one."

Lance splutters, face coming to a quick boil. "I—!"

Keith snorts, a genuine laugh bubbling out of him; Lance doesn't know if that relaxes him or stops his heart. A little bit of both, probably. "Sorry," Keith says breathlessly, and  _dios mio_ the way his smile crinkles his eyes actually  _does_ stop Lance's heart. "I didn't mean..." He bites his lip, squeezing their still-clasped hands. "I'd like that. A-a second date, I mean."

Keith has done the impossible: Lance is stunned into silence, his brain a fuzzy mess of pure joy and affection. Thankfully, Shay comes over and sets their drinks down between them, successfully bringing reality back, too. She apologizes for the interruption with a soft smile and a small bow; Lance just flaps a dismissive hand in return. After she leaves, Lance notices how pink Keith has gone.

He takes a sip of his chai to cover his smile. "You know," Keith looks up at him over his mocha, "a second date sounds great and all, but I think we technically have to get through our first one first." The mountain of whipped cream does nothing to hide Keith's shy grin. "Soo..."

"So?"

"Tell me about yourself!"

"What do you want to know?"

Lances hums and taps his over-sized mug of tea. " _Do_ you actually own any shirts?"

Keith chokes into his coffee. " _Yes!_ "

"Then why are you wearing the one I gave you?" Lance laughs.

Keith's skin flushes so deeply his face blends seamlessly with his jacket. He covers his face with one hand and grumbles something Lance can't make out.

Lance hums at him teasingly, placing one hand behind his ear in the universal gesture for,  _'sorry, what?'_

"I said—" Keith starts too loudly but cuts himself off. He groans and slouches down, shoulders hunched defensively. "Your shirt was way nicer than any of mine and I, you know..."

Lance raises an amused eyebrow, smiling encouragingly for him to finish the thought.

Keith makes a low half-whine in his throat, staring very determinedly into his coffee, face redder than his bike, his jacket, and probably Mars. "Wanted to look...nice. For you."

He says it so quietly that it takes Lance a moment too process the words, but once he does, his brain completely shuts down and his skin turns as red as Keith's.

"Why were you so insistent on paying?"

"Huh?"

"You asked me a question, now I get to ask you one: why was picking up the bill such a big deal to you?"

Lance blinks at him while his brain struggles to restart. "Oh." His smile is sheepish. "I, uh," he laughs nervously, "I guess you could say I'm a giver? I like to spoil people." His now-functioning brain adds on that it's because he feels like  _he's_ not good enough for other people so he overcompensates for his own shortcomings by showering others with material goods. Lance pushes the thought away with a little shake of his head.

Keith hums and takes a slow sip from his mug. "I've never been spoiled before." he says absently.

"Then prepare—"

Keith gives him a flat look.

"—to go Dutch until I can acclimate you to my particular style of affection." The smile he gets from that quick save is downright fond. "Alright, next question: how come you don't pay rent?"

Keith sets his cup down before answering. "It's a, uh, long story. But the short version is, I live with my...future step-uncle in law?"

"Elaborate?"

Keith sighs. "Okay, so, I think I mentioned my brother?"

"You did."

"So actually step-brother."

"Okay."

"He has this girlfriend, and they've been dating for years. They're not officially engaged yet but they live together already, so it's just a matter of time. And well, his girlfriend's uncle lets me stay with him."

Lance waits, but Keith doesn't continue. "Not to push but...why?"

Keith shrugs, wearing a bittersweet far-off look. "Baloo. She's... Coran—the uncle—had a Great Dane. Baloo's mom, actually."

"Had?"

Keith nods. "She passed away a few months back. Coran was devastated. And when I ran into financial trouble and couldn't support myself..."

"He invited you live with him."

Keith nods again. "He really helped me out, but I know he just misses Daisy, and Baloo looks so much like her mom..."

"I'm sure it wasn't  _just_ for Baloo."

Keith gives him another shrug. "It’s fine. You've met Baloo, you know how sweet she is. I don't mind playing second fiddle to my dog."

"Yeah, but... I mean, he gave you one of the puppies, right? I'm sure he's doing it for you too. You _are_ his future step-nephew in law after all."

That pulls a grateful smile from Keith. "He did. I was... I'm glad you didn't know me back then—I was a mess. Shiro had just started dating Allura and..." Keith's eyes wander back up to Lance and he seems to startle, realizing that he might have said too much. "Sorry, you probably don't want to hear all this." he says nervously, running a hand through his hair.

Lance quickly shakes his head. "No, no, I—"

Before he can finish, Shay reappears with their food. It's almost worth the untimely interruption to watch Keith stare in awe at the stack of chocolaty pancakes covered in raspberries and drowned in syrup. Yep, kid at a sundae bar.

He thanks Shay again before turning back to Keith. "I like hearing about your life, messy details and all. It helps me paint a better picture of Keith... Uh..."

"Kogane." Keith supplies over a mouthful of pancake. The precious idiot had stuffed his mouth full like a damn chipmunk.

"Lance McClain." Lance says brightly, trying his damnedest not to snicker as Keith struggles to chew too much at once.

He swallows hard and gasps for a pancakeless breath. "Now that's a Christmas Classic." he says jokingly.

Lance tilts his head in confusion. "Huh?"

"John McClane? Die Hard?" Lance dips his head to the other side like a lost bird. "Die Hard th... The classic 1988 action movie? It's set during Christmas?" Keith looks so distressed it almost funny—funnily adorable. "You've never seen Die Hard?" Even his annoyed voice is endearing.

Lance can only shrug. "What can I say, I like my action movies with a bit of sci-fi."

Keith huffs and slumps down in his chair, crossing his arms again in an adorable pout. "Unbelievable! This morning you teased me for not getting  _your_ references and now you don't even get mine!"

"And I'm proud of that." Lance says smugly as he takes a long sip of chai. "So you're an action nut, huh? Should've figured."

Keith bristles. "What's  _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Keith, you look like you're dressed for a dystopian cyberpunk heist."

Keith taps his foot, lips pursed. "I don't  _only_  watch action flicks." he says after a long moment.

Lance grins. "Oh yeah, because you  _totally_ look like a Disneyphile."

Keith actually frowns, and not in the fun playful way they'd been keeping up. "The Golden Age films are works of art." He says with such serious conviction that his tone gives Lance pause.

"You... Are a Disney fan?"

"More of an animation fan I suppose."

"Oh, so the musical stylings of Alan Menken and Howard Ashman do nothing for you?"

"Okay, first of all,  _how dare you._ And second, what the Renaissance films lack in visual diversity they more than make up for in story and songwriting."

Lance can't help the little bark of disbelief, his cheeks stretch wide in an amused grin. " _Holy shit_ , you really know your stuff."

Keith shrugs but also wears a proud little smile. "I just...like art. I was majoring in illustration before—"

"You were an art major?!" Lance practically yells, drawing attention from the tables around them.

"Y-yeah?"

Lance falls back in his chair, face aching from his huge smile. "Keith Kogane, the art major." he sighs dreamily. "Didn’t take you as the sensitive artistic type."

Keith answering smile once again betrays something less than happy. "Yep, that's me..." His voice is shaky and Lance is pretty sure he meant it to be sarcastic. He cuts off Lance before he can interrogate him further. "I think that's enough about my life, what about you?"

Lance blinks at him. "What about me?"

"Who's Rax?"

Lance groans dramatically and sinks back in his chair. "You like drama, right?"

"No."

"Okay, so you've met Shay, the literal embodiment of sunshine and niceness. Rax is her brother. And he is the Devil Himself." Keith gives him a skeptical look but Lance waves him off. "Rax is also one of my eight housemates. So is my best bro Hunk. Both of them work here. Hunk  _also_ has a thing for Shay, and Rax is  _not about that_. So you've got this antagonism going on between at home  _and_ work, and because Hunk and I are BFFs, I get Rax's spillover hate." He rushes it out quickly and can tell by Keith's stunned expression that he's still trying to process all the details by the time he stops talking. "And Rax spits in my food." he adds.

Keith actually winces at that. "Isn't that against, like, food regulations? Rat him out."

Lance shakes his head with a fond sigh. "Can't. Rax and Shay own this joint—it'd put Shay  _and_ Hunk out of work if I did."

" _Jesus,_ " Keith mutters, pushing around a raspberry on his plate. He gives a half-hearted little laugh. "And I thought  _my_ life was messy."

Lance grins. "You have  _no_ idea. And that's just  _two_ of my housemates, I haven't even told you about Rolo or the Gremlin yet."

Keith gives him a playful smirk. "That's four out of eight. Is the other half as bad?"

"Nyma, yes. The other three are actually pretty chill. Everything you want in a roommate: barely there, professional, washes their own dishes."

Keith nods, taking another huge bite of pancake. "Super interesting, but that doesn't tell me a whole lot about you." He at least shields his mouth with a hand so Lance doesn't have to watch him talk over pancake. He can't decide if it's adorable or gross.

"Well, what do you wanna know?"

"Siblings?"

"Six."

Keith chokes. Lance laughs as he pounds his chest. " _Six?!_ " He sounds almost offended.

Lance nods proudly. " _And_ I'm the baby." Keith  _definitely_ looks offended now; Lance can't fight back his amused grin anymore. "Mom and Dad both came from big families. What about you?"

Keith stares intently at his remaining pancake, sliding the last bits around in the pool of syrup. "Just Shiro." he mutters.

Lance frowns. It'd been so easy to overshare, but now he wonders if he said something wrong. Was he jealous, or... "You don't like kids?"

Keith bristles, face turning red. "I-I didn't say that!"

Lance gives him a soft smile. "It's fine either way, I get it. Lord knows my nieces and nephews can be a handful. Even if I  _am_ the coolest uncle in the world." He waggles his eyebrows.

He successfully breaks Keith's moodiness, earning him a tiny smile. “Uncle, huh? Do I even want to know?”

"Brace yourself... 21."

Keith straight up drops his fork, letting it clatter loudly against his plate, as he throws his hands up. Lance can’t help but laugh.

"Yeah I know, but in their defense a few of them are practically my age, two are actually _older_ , and at least four of them can barely talk yet."

Keith just stares at him, mouth slightly open, a small scoff escaping on every other breath. “How...”

Lance cuts him off. “ _And_ , I’ve still got three surviving grandparents, who are now great-grandparents.”

Keith shakes his head, eyes widening in a wordless _‘hoo boy’_  before he goes back to his food. “Do they...live around here?” Okay, so overwhelmed but not put off, Lance will take that.

"Nah. My sister lives a few hours away, but she’s the closest. I...moved out here when I got accepted into GTI."

"Dream school at least."

Lance hums sadly, trying his best not to let his smile fall. “It’s... I miss them, you know? What about your brother? Shiro, right? Does he live nearby?”

Keith laughs dryly. “Unfortunately. I swear he comes by every other day just to check up on me.”

"Is that so bad?"

"I just...feel like I’m letting him down." Keith sighs. “I love him, more than anything, but... Maybe if I saw him less I’d actually have something to show him, prove I’m not just a burden.”

"Uh oh." Keith looks up with a bewildered expression; Lance gives him the softest smile he can manage. “Sounds like more messy details you aren’t too keen on me knowing yet.” Keith melts into a grateful smile. “ _And_ , it looks like you’ve made quick work of those pancakes. Can I tempt you with some free cheesecake—no don’t argue, you were _absolutely_ making bedroom eyes at it earlier.”

Keith snorts. “I don’t think you’d want that.”

"Why not?"

"Lactose intolerant." he says with a guilty wink.

Lance laughs, unable to keep the affection out of his voice. “I mean, as long as it makes you happy, I can put up with all the stinky cheese farts in the world.”

Keith practically barks. “You’re disgusting!”

"And you’re adorable!"

Keith’s breath catches in his throat, laughter dying away. Lance realizes his mistake too late.

 _Shit. Slow,_ he was supposed to be going _slow,_ not word vomiting every one of his mushy thoughts. Oh _god,_  was that the first time he’d complimented his appearance, too? Fuck. _Fuck!_   _‘Adorable’, are you kidding me?! Handsome,_ or _hot!_ Not—

Keith speaks before Lance can backtrack. “Thank you,” he says quietly, tucking his hair behind his ear. “I... Thanks.” He smile is small and shy and Lance can’t bear it. Where once there was but one arrow wedged between his ribs, he swears he can feel Cupid’s whole quiver skewering his chest.

Slow, sure. Slow like a locomotive apparently.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

In the end, Keith still declined the cheesecake and went with one of Shay’s Blue Ribbon Brownies instead. Despite Lance insisting he had a nose of steel, Keith refused to let ‘stinky cheese farts’ ruin their date.

Time flew by. Hunk came on around the time Shay left, and Lance couldn’t help but notice the way she pointed out their table and giggled to Hunk as she was leaving. Lance wanted to defend himself, but whatever she had said prompted Hunk to bring them two very delicious sandwiches (which were definitely not on the menu), complete with refills on their drinks. Lance wouldn’t accept a third chai but he was pretty sure Keith was on his fifth mocha. He was starting to think Keith only ‘liked his coffee black’ because no one had ever taken him to a damn Starbucks before.

For a long while, they talked about nothing, and everything. Mostly Disney movies. Despite being a self-proclaimed Disney buff, Lance was surprised by how much more Keith just seemed to _know_ about his childhood classics. Keith joked that Aladdin made him gay, to which Lance responded that Aladdin and Jasmine confused the _fuck_  out of baby Lance. They both begrudgingly respected the others’ choice for Hottest Prince (turns out that Keith was madly in love with Naveen while Lance would, quote, _die_  for Flynn Rider). Keith’s opinions on princesses was somewhat limited, but at least he could agree that Mulan was a badass. Lance, however, went off on a 20 minute tangent about why Tiana and Moana are The Best, and gave a detailed presentation about why he’d marry either (or both) in a heartbeat.

Lance finally brought up _Jungle Book_.

"Oh," Keith flushes, nervously playing with his empty mug. The question had been, _‘is it your favorite movie’,_  and, you know, Lance feels pretty stupid for assuming Keith wouldn’t like Disney stuff in the first place given that his dog is _named Baloo._  “It definitely was when I was a kid.” he admits. “I must’ve watched it at least once a day growing up.”

"Same, but with Little Mermaid."

Keith laughs with him. “I swear, it must’ve driven my—" He cuts himself off abruptly, looking startled once again by how easily he lets information slip to Lance. He clears his throat. “So. Ariel, huh?” Nice topic change.

Lance knows by now not to push it. “Yeah,” he laughs instead. “I grew up near the ocean so mermaids were a _huge_  deal for me. My mom always said that if I spent any longer in the water I’d grow a tail of my own. So of course—"

"Oh no."

"—Oh yes! She was _furious_ when she caught me once, dead of night, nearly dragged out to sea by the tide.” Keith laughs, covering his mouth; Lance grins. “Mind you, I was like, seven? And a _really_  strong swimmer, so little Lancey didn’t get why she was so pissed. It wasn’t until years later that I realized I probably would have died if she hadn’t found me.”

"How’d she know you were out there?"

"I was singing.” Keith bursts out howling, clutching his sides. “It was either Part of Your World or Under the Sea, I cant remember anymore, but I think it was some unholy combination of the two.”

Keith wipes a tear from his eye as he settles down. “You’ll have to figure out the composition someday—I’d love to hear that.”

Lance instantly flushes at that. Sing? For _Keith?_  Alright, now he’s _sure_ this boy is trying to kill him. No one had ever asked him to sing for them. In fact, he’s sure several people have asked him to _stop_  singing before.

Lance fails to make a coherent response, but at least Keith gets a nice little chuckle out of his flustered state.

"McClain!"

The angry voice is accompanied by a soft jingle and the loud _thunk_  of metal on concrete. Both boys turn towards the door to find a young man, visually similar to Shay but shorter and less buff.

Lance groans low in his throat, sliding down in his chair in an effort to look smaller. “Hey, Rax.” he says dryly.

Rax marches over to them and slams his palms down on the table, rattling their dishes. “I thought I told you to stop coming here. You are no longer welcome in this establishment.”

Lance offers him a sickly sweet smile in return. “Shay says otherwise.”

Rax bristles, but Lance is watching Keith. Keith, who’s full on _glowering_  at Rax. He has one arm braced on the back of his chair and he's halfway out of his seat already; he looks ready to attack. As much as Lance would like to see that fight, he doesn’t want to cause a scene and _actually_  be banned from his favorite cafe.

He throws his hands up in defeat. “Fine, fine, we were just leaving anyway. Didn’t even realize it was three already.” Lance stands up and is about to dramatically link arms with Keith and storm out dignified, but Keith has frozen.

He turns wide, _horrified_ eyes up at Lance. “It’s _three?_ ” he asks with a rasp.

Lance pulls his phone from his pocket: 2:54. “Almost.”

Keith curses sharply under his breath and scurries from his seat. He bumps Rax back a step as he rushes past him. The other boy just scoffs and storms off to the kitchen as Keith darts out the door.

"Keith!" Lance calls frantically, hurriedly snatching his bag and the helmet from the floor. He gets to the door the second it closes and all but crashes through it. Keith is pacing in front of the cafe, phone already pressed to his ear. "Keith, wha—"

" _Shh!_ " Keith shoves a finger in Lance’s face, just barely a breath away from his lips: Lance blushes furiously. Keith stops in his tracks, standing a little straighter. He clears his throat. “Hey, Kol.” he says. His voice is suddenly scratchy, barely above a strained whisper.

Lance’s jaw drops.

"Yeah, I... No, yeah, I’m sorry, I just—" He coughs. “Sorry.” _God,_  how did he make his voice _more_  gravelly? “I slept through my alarm. I... No, no, I can totally—... Okay. Alright. Thank you, sorry.” Keith hangs up and looks over at Lance. “What?” His voice is back to normal.

Lance closes his gaping mouth into a grin. He shakes his head and slow claps. “You deserve an Oscar for that performance.”

Keith bites back a smirk. He looks away, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry about that.”

"No, no! It’s fine, it’s just... I didn’t know you had work today." Lance says sheepishly.

"I did. At _two_." Lance winces but Keith shakes his head. “Hey, don’t worry about it. I lost track of time, and calling out sick is a _lot_  easier than coming in late. This way my manager won’t be _as_  mad when I come back. And besides,” Ah yes, there’s that cute shy grin again, “I’m having fun.”

Lance has to forcefully shove the smitten squeal back down his throat. “Are you sure? You said they don’t give you many hours to start with.”

Keith just shrugs. “Worth it.” He throws Lance another lovely smile. “So, where are we off to next?”

Once again, simple words strike Lance dumb. “Next?”

Keith’s smile falters. “Oh,” his cheeks are lighting up pink again. “Sorry, I shouldn’t’ve—“

Lance quickly shakes his head. “No, no! I—!” He swallows over a lump in his throat. “Guess I’m just surprised you’re not sick of me yet...” he laughs nervously.

Keith’s brows furrow, a slight frown tugging at his lips. “Of course I’m not sick of you.”

 _God,_  does he even know what those words mean to Lance?

"Like I said, I’m... I’m having fun." He gives Lance a smile so broad it crinkles his eyes. “Besides, I don’t work today, so I got nowhere to be.” He winks.

He _winks_  at Lance! There’s no stopping the happy noise that crawls up his throat this time. He breaks into an face-splitting grin and throws an arm around Keith’s shoulder, earning him another laugh. “ _Alright,_ let’s keep this party going!” He releases Keith and stuffs the helmet back on his head. “I chose our first activity, I think it’s only fair you pick next.”

Keith laughs, muttering “ _Activity?_ ” while shrugging.

Lance hangs his head with a played up groan. So indecisive! He swings one leg over the bike. “Wanna go be mall rats? Pretend we’re 14 again?”

Keith shakes his head, laughing, but climbs onto the bike in front of Lance. “Sure. Just so long as we avoid the craft store on Park.”

Lance nearly falls off the bike. “ _You work at a craft store?!_ ” he shrieks, grabbing hold of Keith for balance.

" _Shup up!"_  Lance continues to cackle. “I _will_  throw you off this bike!” he threatens whilst tugging Lance’s arms more securely around his waist.

Lance let’s his head fall against his back again, wiggling into place until he and Keith fit together perfectly. He swears he must be hallucinating though, because for a second it almost feels like Keith leans into the contact. Lance tentatively tightens his hold and _definitely_ feels Keith’s chest swell a bit. He also thinks maybe, _just maybe_ , Keith makes a contented little sigh, but he starts the engine and all adoring noises are washed away.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updating two days in a row?? Maybe if I just keep truckin', I'll actually finish this. :00
> 
> (also i love comments?? please?)

As it turns out, Keith had never been a mall rat in his youth.

"I just never saw the appeal of it." he admits.

They enter through the Macy's and make a beeline towards the main hall. "Whaaat?" Lance sings teasingly. He throws his arms out and spins to gesture at their surroundings. "You're telling me you've never spent a day shopping at a fabulous indoor oasis of material goods?"

Keith snorts. "I mean I  _have_ , but deliberately shopping  _at_ a mall for an extended period of time isn't same as  _being_ a mall rat."

Lance hums his disbelief. "Yeah sure. Know what I think?" He grins mischievously. "I think 13-year-old Keith spent a little  _too_ much time in Hot Topic."

" _Shut up._ " Keith laughs, giving Lance a little shove. "Alright, so  _maybe_ I spent _a little_ extra time in  _certain_ stores," Lance makes a cough that sounds suspiciously like  _'Hot Topic'_ but Keith ignores him. "But I never went to a mall just to... I don't know, hang out."

Lance shakes his head affectionately. "Unbelievable! You missed out on a  _staple_ of preteen culture. What'd you and your friends even  _do_ at that age then?" Lance turns to Keith but finds him suddenly wearing a small frown. "I-I just mean," he rushes out the words, "it was too  _hot_ in Florida to play outside. I may like the heat more than your average Southerner, but the  _humidity. Ugh!_ " Thankfully, Keith laughs at that; Lance let's out a relieved sigh.

"You're from Florida?"

Lance nods enthusiastically, eager to steer the conversation away from whatever he'd said to upset Keith. "Yep!" he pops the P. "Born and raised in Miami—right on the tip of the penis."

Keith splutters into a fit of giggles and has to stop walking for a moment. " _What the fuck?_ "

"What? Florida looks like a giant dick. Acts like it too. And you've never known true terror until you've stumbled into a nudist retirement colony." He shudders.

"Well, at least it sounds like you had a, um, eventful childhood." Keith offers, not even trying to hide his amusement.

"Yeah," Lance sighs wistfully, "I got up to a  _lot_ of shit in my time. But what about you? Where do you hail from?"

"Here!" he says dryly with the least impressive pair of jazz hands ever.

"I'd give you my condolences, but I foolishly live here now too." When Keith doesn't laugh, Lance bumps their shoulders together and earns a smile at least. "It's not so bad. We're centrally located at least."

Keith rolls his eyes. "Well if we're talking about  _here_ here, then no, not really. I mean sure,  _nowadays_ we have all these conveniences, and yeah, the Garrison Tech Institute is pretty close by, but it wasn't always like this." He turns to give Lance a very Serious Look. "I remember when this entire shopping district was farmland."

Lance clutches his chest and pretends to wilt. "I yield! I yield!" Keith laughs this time. "Okay, so  _one,_ you're old as heck. And  _two_ , I'm guessing by here-here, you mean you haven't always lived around these particular parts?"

"I'm not  _that_ old." Keith grumbles. Lance nudges his shoulder again and he smiles. "And yes, you're right. I haven't always lived  _here_ particularly, but I've always lived in this state. Bounced around a lot as a kid... Spent a lot of time south of here—you know, where it's  _actually_ centrally located."

Lance hums. "Isn't the city south of here?"

Keith nods. "Yeah. Moved there on my own when I was 18. Tried to do college in the city too. And now..."

"Here you are."

More lackluster jazz hands.

The both come to a stop. Without realizing it, their conversation had taken them to the opposite end of the mall. Lance looks over at Keith. "Wanna go again?"

Keith shrugs. "Sure."

They ride the escalator up to the second floor and start back the way they came. "Soo..." Lance starts with another moment of shoulder contact.

"So?"

"I sure know a lot about you." Keith huffs and turns a little pink. "Which is  _great_." he adds quickly. He captures Keith's hand in his own and gives it a reassuring squeeze. "I just meant—I feel like I'm not doing a lot of the talking. Which is  _wild—_ I never shut up. And it's unfair to you. Here I have this gorgeous Renaissance portrait of you, but I've only given, like, a stick figure of myself."

Keith shakes his head. "Okay. So what should I know about you?"

"What do you want to know?"

Keith hums and taps his chin with his free hand. "Well... What's your major?"

 _Oh shit._ "It's, ah..." Lance laughs nervously and coughs. "That's a good question. I  _wanted_ to go into astronomy, or astrophysics, or aerospace engineering, or  _something_ like that... I always wanted to go to space."

"Space is pretty sick." Keith agrees.

Lance hums. "When I was a kid... Cape Canaveral wasn't exactly _close_ to where I lived, but sometimes we'd drive up the coast, just to watch a launch. It was..." Lance sighs. "Magical, honestly."

They slow to a stop. Keith is watching him closely with his beautiful dark eyes, but refrains from interrupting. Lance swallows loudly.

"Ever since I was little... Astronaut or mermaid, literally my only two goals." He gives Keith a crooked smile that he hopes will earn a reaction: it doesn't. Lance sighs again. "Obviously mermaid wasn't going to work out, so I thought, 'yeah let's go to space!' But... Turns out I'm too stupid."

Keith actually recoils a little at that. He narrows his eyes but still doesn't say a word.

"Yeah... Apparently you need to, like, be good at math to go to space. And just smart period. I've never really been good at...school."

"So..." _Ah, he speaks!_ "GTI... _isn't_ your dream school then."

A bittersweet smile plays on Lance's lips. "No. It's not even my second choice, or my third..." He lets out a humorless laugh. "I'm just lucky I even got accepted somewhere."

"But... I thought the Garrison had a space program?"

"Well yeah... But I flunked out of it. I was doing pretty okay for a little while, but then the classes got more intense and they started cutting out the students with the lowest grades—elite crop of space pioneers and all that. And, well..." Now it was his turn to make disappointing jazz hands. "Cs and Bs could only take me so far."

Keith stares at him. Something is going on behind those dark eyes, but Lance has no clue what. God, Keith must pity him. Or maybe he's finally realizing what an idiot blabbermouth failure Lance is. Honestly, he's surprised he managed to make it this far with him. Oh well. He'll have to call Hunk for a ride home once his shift is ove—

Keith hugs him. It catches Lance so off guard it feels like a punch to the gut—all his breath escapes at once. It takes a moment for his head to stop spinning and for reality to sink in. Keith has his arms wrapped around his middle, squeezing almost too tightly but it's...comforting. He's nestled his head into the crook of Lance's neck and Lance is just now realizing how much taller he is than the other boy.

Lance is too stunned to even realize his own arms still hang uselessly by his sides.

"Sorry," Keith mumbles into his jacket, "I know I'm not...like, good at this. I've been told I'm a bad hugger."

"What?" Lance laughs and—oh god. What a gross  _wet_ laugh. _No don't. Don't fucking cry._ "What the fuck, that's so mean? Who would even say that?" He finally has enough sense to wrap his arms around Keith and squeeze back.

Keith shrugs into his arms. "Same people that say I have Resting Bitch Face."

Lance buries his face in Keith's shoulder. " _Fuck_ those assholes! Tell me who they are so I can beat them up!"

Keith's laugh is muffled by Lance's jacket. "Yeah, that's what I said, but then got accused of being aggressive and standoffish."

Lance somehow manages to tighten his hold. " _Wow,_ Midwesterners are  _assholes_."

"Tell me about it."

They stand there another minute, holding each other silently in front of a Sketchers. Lance feels content—and comfortable. Keith's hair tickles his nose, but it's surprisingly soft. He smells faintly like Axe and it makes Lance giggle internally because it's not actually that bad when he's not drowning in it.

Just when he thinks Keith is going to let go, he gives Lance another squeeze. "I know how it feels, to have a dream just out of reach." The words are quiet, just barely audible. Lance has to strain to hear him as Keith presses his face into his jacket. "But... I also think you're a lot more capable than you give yourself credit for. So just... Don't give up."

They finally break away, Lance's cheek sticks slightly to the leather of Keith's jacket: it leaves a bright red mark on his face. He rubs his cheek with a wet laugh. "Wow," he sniffles loudly, "I don't know about you, but I need ice cream after that."

Keith smiles, also swiping at his eyes. "We passed a Haagen-Dazs downstairs earlier."

Lance laughs again, sounding significantly less miserable this time. "I didn't even notice. And you say you don't have a sweet tooth."

Keith shrugs, taking Lance's hand again but this time lacing their fingers together. "Well, you're pretty sweet, so..."

" _Holy shit that was smooth._ " Lance whispers loudly.

Keith graces his ears with his heartiest laugh yet. Lance can't remember the last time he felt so optimistic.

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thus far, I’ve been pretty stoked that the chapters have been 1500 words or more—short, but not _too_ short. So apologies that this one barely cracks 1k. The scene was a bit difficult to write but it feels complete imo, and no promises but I get the feeling the next one might be hecka long.

Keith is adamant about paying for the ice cream, still a little sore after Lance's deception at the cafe. Lance doesn't object. The only thing more comforting than ice cream is  _free_ ice cream.

They find an open table at the edge of the food court and sit facing away from the other restaurants, watching the growing late afternoon crowd of holiday shoppers swarm past. Lance shovels creamy vanilla goodness in his mouth, mood already turning around with sugar in his system. Keith, to absolutely no one's surprise, got the chocolatiest chocolate they had.

"Feeling better?" he asks, crunching on a fudge chunk.

Lance nods vigorously, practically moaning over another spoonful. "Oh man, I haven't had Haagen-Dazs in  _ages_. This is the Good Shit. Thank youuu, Keeeith!" he sings and leans closer.

Keith just shrugs one shoulder but he can't hide his pleased little smile.

"No but like... Thank you." he says again, quieter this time. He knows Keith is looking at him, but he stares into his cup, stirring his ice cream into a thick soup. "You didn't have to say all that nice stuff, I..." He can't find the words. Keith didn't  _have_ to encourage  _or_ console him. Lance knows he's a failure. But all the same, hearing Keith tell him otherwise made him actually sort of believe he wasn't.

He looks up at his date, who's now turned his attention to his own ice cream. Keith takes a deep, steadying breath. "I crashed my bike my freshman year." Lance inhales sharply. Keith looks down at his hand, studying it as he opens and closes a fist. "I shattered my right arm. My right... _hand_." he says quietly.

Lance's breath catches in his throat. "Your...drawing hand?"

Keith nods. "It took months to heal but even then, even with physical therapy..." He closes his hand into a fist again and Lance can see his knuckles turning white. "There was just too much nerve damage."

Lance's chest feels tight. He aches with an unfamiliar intensity—wishing there was something he could say or do. Without thinking, he reaches over and covers Keith's hand with his own. He opens his mouth but nothing comes out. Keith smiles gently at their hands and Lance can feel his fingers relax beneath his.

"I lost all my fine motor skills—I could barely even write anymore. Nothing I made was anywhere  _close_ to what I had been making before. Everyone looked at me like my life was already over, and I just..." His brows come together into a frown and he shifts their hands so their fingers thread together once more. "I just wanted someone to tell me that everything would be okay." he continues quietly. "That it was just a set back or..." He shakes his head, eyes beginning to shine with unshed tears. "But everyone acted like my dreams were dead. I didn't want them to be, but after a while I started to believe it. I just..." He finally looks up at Lance, giving his hand a little squeeze. "I didn't want you to feel that way too."

Lance is staring, he knows he is. He bites his tongue to stop careless words from pouring out. Although their circumstances are different, Lance completely understands where Keith is coming from. It had been one of the hardest moments of his life when he had to explain to his parents that he'd been cut from the space program. His mom, his dad, his siblings—his _friends—_ they all acted like Lance was suddenly made of glass, that he'd break if they so much as mentioned his failure. No one offered him kind words, no one suggested trying again. All he heard for the following month was  _back-up plan_ this, and  _move back home_ that. What Lance wouldn't have given for just one person tell him not to give up.

And finally someone did. Someone who knew how important it was to stubbornly want to fight on, to not just lay down and give up. He didn't want to lower his expectations, he didn't want to  _settle—_ he wanted someone to cheer him on, to double down with him: he wanted someone that didn't treat him like his goals had always been unrealistic in the first place.

It was hard to believe that he'd only met Keith eight hours ago. They resonated so well together that Lance felt like they'd known each other their whole lives.

Now, of all times, Hunk's stupid advice plays through his mind again, but you know what?  _Fuck_ slow! Lance is going to start going with his gut. His mushy, rushed, butterfly-filled gut.

He wets his lips, searching for the right words. "Was that..." He swallows, throat suddenly dry. He squeezes their clasped hands. "Was that the same time you got Baloo?"

Keith pauses, his eyes widening like he can't believe Lance made the connection. He nods, the tiniest of smiles crossing his lips. "Yeah. She...really helped me. A lot."

Lance takes a deep breath, steeling his nerves and preparing to either make or break what's probably the best day of his life. Slowly, carefully, he leans in, bringing his other hand up to cup Keith's face. "Earlier you said... You said you were glad that you didn't know me back then. But..." Another deep breath. He holds Keith's gaze with his own and gently strokes his thumb over his cheek. "I wish I had. I wish I could've been there to tell you all those things. I wish I could've visited you in the hospital. I wish I could've driven you to your appointments. Hell," he smiles, "I wish I could've sat on the floor with you and finger painted. Who knows, you might've been the next Picasso by now."

Keith lets out a wet laugh, his other hand coming up to meet Lance's.

He knew it. He knew his gamble would pay off: they both want the same thing. Lance gives him the biggest, warmest smile he can manage; Keith returns it, something beyond fond or grateful shining in his eyes. He leans into the touch.

"Thank you." he murmurs, so quiet and so earnest that it makes Lance's heart ache with something he can't name but would fight to feel every day for the rest of his life. Keith opens his mouth again, but seems to think better of it. Instead, he tangles their fingers and smiles into Lance's palm before guiding their hands down to the table. "Your ice cream's gonna melt."

Lance breathes a small laugh, not caring in the slightest how taken his smile must be. He reluctantly lets go of both of Keith's hands. "Worth it." he says, smiling over a spoonful of half-melted vanilla.

Keith returns his smile, reaching for his own forgotten ice cream.

And then it hits Lance.

"Wait. Didn't you say you're lactose intolerant?"

Keith locks eyes with him, maintaining the contact as he brings his spoon to his lips. "Worth it." he says, closing his mouth over a spoonful of chocolate teasingly slow.

Lance just laughs, that wonderful feeling blooming brighter in his chest.

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You see that chapter count? That's me hoping I know wtf i'm doing. Don't hold me to it but...in theory. >.>
> 
>  
> 
> Also (hopefully it's obvious in context but), plain texts are Lance, bolded texts are Keith. I tried to use auto-correct and -caps to drive home the difference between T9 and an iphone.

The ice cream was not, in fact, worth it.

About twenty minutes or so after Keith's hubris in the face of the lactose gods, he suddenly excused himself from their conversation, dashing off towards the restrooms whilst clutching his stomach in pain. Lance was completely unfazed. He just casually stood up, gathered his things, and followed after at a leisurely pace. He thought it was actually rather endearing that, despite knowing it would fuck him over, Keith had chosen death over an ice cream-less existence. Foolish, but endearing. Still, he felt bad for him.

Lance waited diligently outside the restrooms, scrolling through facebook on his phone. About ten minutes and three cat videos later, his phone chimes with a little notification from Keith.

 

 **04:01PM: well im the worst fucking date ever**  
**04:01PM: if u leave me here to die id totally understand**  
**04:01PM: sorry**

 

Lance smiles down at his phone.

 

04:01PM: Nah ur good  
04:02PM: I wouldn't leave you  
04:02PM: Besides  
04:02PM: Ur my ride home ;)

 **04:02PM: u could always call an uber or smth**  
**04:02PM: id pay u back**  
**04:02PM: ugh im really sorry i feel awful**  
**04:02PM: both physically and emotionally**

 

Lance barks a small laugh, earning a few stares.

 

04:02PM: What kind of date would I be if I abandoned u in ur time of need?

 **04:03PM: har har**  
**04:03PM: but seriously u dont have to stick around**  
**04:03PM: i do feel awful about this :(**

04:03PM: Keith  
04:03PM: Buddy  
04:03PM: I'm seriously not going anywhere

**04:03PM: u sure? its...going to be a while**

04:03PM: It's fine dude :)  
04:04PM: I mean, I might wander around a bit but I promise I'm not leaving u

 

Lance stares at their conversation, drumming his fingers over the back of the phone. After a few long moments of radio silence, he lets out a sigh and pushes off from where he'd been leaning on the wall.

 

04:07PM: My phone is on, text me when ur done and I'll come running ;)

 

Despite his threat to wander off on his own, Lance continues to stand there, glancing between his phone and the bathroom door. He waits another long minute before defeatedly walking away at a snail's pace. Still no reply from Keith. He hopes he's okay. Or well, as  _okay_ as he can be. Mostly he hopes he didn't actually keel over and die.

Lance can't help the little snort in the back of his throat at that thought. If a tiny cup of ice cream could do  _this_ to him, he wonders if the cheesecake would've  _actually_ killed him.

Note to self: keep the reckless cute boy away from dairy.

Lance meanders out of the food court and back into the large, high-vaulted main hall. The mall is now packed, the people hurrying by creating a wall of bodies. Lance swears the crowd must've doubled since he and Keith sat down with their ill-fated ice cream. Then again, it _is_ like, eleven days until Christmas. He starts to think it might just be a better idea to go back and make base camp at a table. He can fall through an endless rabbit hole of clickbait until Keith feels better. He thinks that, until he looks down at his phone again.

16%.

Lance does a double-take, nearly fumbling his phone. He brings the device right up to his face and watches the battery percentage drop another digit in real time. He panics, quickly unlocking it. He swipes every app closed but the messenger: facebook, twitter, instagram, a bunch of games—Jesus, no wonder he's under 20%. He turns off his data, double-checks that the wifi isn't trying to connect to anything, and turns on the battery saver, dropping the brightness to a dim, almost unreadable level in the process. He locks the phone again and stares at the black screen.

So much for clickbait base camp. As he pockets the phone, he resolves not to turn it on unless Keith texts him.

Well shit, now what? Lances looks around, suddenly feeling a bit overwhelmed by the hordes of people filtering by. He clutches at the strap of his backpack anxiously and shifts the weight on his shoulder.

Oh.

_Oh._

He shifts the bag again, remembering its contents. It was stupid, really. A pipe dream. Due to his time crunch, he hadn't been able to actually plan this date, but he  _did_ have this little backup. A nice little fantasy, the  _perfect date_ , if you will. It was something dumb and clichéd, but Lance had always thought it was Top Tier Romance. He had grabbed the pack in a rush, barely even thinking about it. Sure,  _ideally_ , it was for the Perfect Day, but subconsciously it was his Emergency Backup Plan. He had never needed it before, due to all his meticulous planning, and things were going great with Keith, ice cream incident aside, so while he didn't  _need_  his Secret Weapon...

His phone chimes and pulls him out of his reverie.

 

**04:19PM: end me.**

 

Lance smiles, warm and fond and so wide it hurts his cheeks.

 

04:20PM: Feeling any better?

 **04:20PM: no**  
**04:20PM: why did i do this to myself**  
**04:20PM: who thought this was a good idea**

04:21PM: It was my siren charm  
04:21PM: Compelling u to risk life and limb for chocolate

**04:22PM: ugh ive never had ice cream betray me this hard**

04:22PM: I'm sure all those mochas didn't help any

**04:22PM: ?**

04:22PM: Dude u were drinking lattes, they're like, 90% milk

 **04:23PM: what**  
**04:23PM: u knew this?? and didnt tell me?!**

04:23PM: I mean. U didn't mention being lactose intolerant until after ur like, 5th coffee.

 **04:24PM: UGH**  
**04:24PM: NO WONDER THEY WERE SO GOOD**  
**04:25PM: THIS IS WHY I TAKE MY COFFEE BLACK**

04:25PM: Lol

 

Lance knows he looks dumb, standing in the middle of the walkway, impeding foot traffic and staring at his phone with a goofy grin. No, he doesn't  _need_ his Secret Weapon, but this day is already pretty damn perfect, so what the hell.

He bites back a grin and pockets his phone once more when it becomes apparent Keith isn't going to reply. He dutifully checks his battery along the way: 12%. Ugh. Thanks, Steve Jobs. He prays his battery will last. If nothing else, he'll just camp out by the bathrooms again. But until then...

Time to pull out all the stops. Lance hitches the bag higher on his shoulder and confidently dives into the bustling crowd. He might be armed with the base ingredients for his most wistful fantasy, but it's mid-December and that fantasy wasn't exactly built for cold weather. He makes a mental checklist of everything he'll need, stopping briefly to study the mall directory.

Surprisingly, the first item on his list takes the longest to find. He wades through at least three different home goods stores before stumbling across an adorable country-themed mom'n'pop shop. Okay, so to be fair, it was actually the homey Christmas window display that caught his attention. Being from Florida and having most of his family come from Cuba, Lance never got to experience the Classic American Christmas like in all the old movies. There was an undeniable charm to the brick fireplace, wood furniture, plaid-covered-everything farmhouse aesthetic, and this quaint little store delivered on all fronts. It also, much to his delighted surprise, was well-stocked in over-sized, heavily insulated fleece blankets. These farm folk did not fuck around, unlike the damn Pottery Barn, which seemed to only carry overpriced, paper-thin handkerchiefs.

Onto items two through four. Luckily he's able to just hit up a kiosk for these; though, despite his betrayal at the hands of name-brand realtors, the temptation to acquire fandom-themed merch from Hot Topic almost wins out. He and Keith hadn't made it this far on the second floor and _God_ did Lance want to tease him about it. He almost resists the childish temptation until he sees the store across the hall.

He grins madly, sprinting back several feet for the perfect angle.

Lance lines up the shot. He takes a selfie, making sure only his comically distressed eyes and the tip of his nose are in frame. He gets a wide shot of the hall behind him, of the Hot Topic and the Disney Store directly across from each other. The gag costs him a delirious 6% off his battery.

 

04:46PM: Help!  
04:46PM: I don't know what to do!  
04:46PM: I'm stuck between...  
04:47PM: [attachment]  
04:47PM: A Maui and an edgy place.

**04:49PM: oh my god  
04:49PM: nerd**

 

Lance laughs brightly, rushing to the opposite end of the mall for his last errand, his phone teetering dangerously at only 6%.

 

04:50PM: How u feeling?

**04:52PM: bleh**

04:52PM: Can I get you anything? Lactaid? Some calming tea? The sweet release of death?

**04:53PM: door #3 pls**

 

His intended destination was a Starbucks, but another window display catches his eye along the way.

 

04:54PM: No but seriously, do you need anything?  
04:54PM: My phones about to die

 **04:56PM: im fine thanks**  
**04:57PM: actually i think my stomach is finally done being a bitch**

04:57PM: Cool cool  
04:58PM: I'll meet you back over there soon  
04:58PM: Just gotta finish something up

**05:00PM: ?**

05:00PM: ;) ;) ;)  
05:00PM: It's a surprise ;3c

 

On dramatic cue, his phone beeps a death rattle and automatically shuts off at 2%. Lance sighs and looks up at the elegantly decorated chocolate shop before him. Seeing their display again only strengthens his resolve. Unfortunately, the store is packed, and the build-your-own-box style of checkout only slows things down further. Lance gets through the line as quickly as possible before racing back to the food court, overly-stuffed bag bouncing off his back with each quick step. He wants to believe it only took a few minutes— _ten_ tops—but he has a terrible sense of time, especially without his phone to keep him on track.

By the time he's managed to sprint back to the bathrooms, Keith still isn't out.

Lance finds his spot against the wall and tries to catch his breath. A few more minutes go by and he starts getting anxious. More than once he looks at his phone out of habit and is disappointed each time. His leg starts to bounce with restless energy. How long has it been since his last text? Twenty? Thirty minutes? Had Keith finished up before he could make it back? Had he walked out to find an empty hall and wandered off to look for him? Lance closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, pressing his head to the wall and willing himself to _calm the fuck down_. Still, the worry claws at his chest. This is why he hates being without his phone.

Thankfully, the bathroom door opens, the hard whine of the hand dryer blaring for just a moment before the door closes again. Lance opens his eyes.

Keith stands there awkwardly, somehow managing to look both pale and flushed at the same time. He fidgets with his gloves, stubborn gaze avoiding Lance at all costs.

"I am...  _So_ sorry." he says quietly, cheeks lighting up even pinker.

Lance just shrugs, a calming warmth settling over his worry as an easy smile returns to his lips. "It's fine, don't even worry about it."

Keith groans, raking a hand through his hair. "No, it's not. I totally ruined our date, I made you wait around while—"

"You literally didn't. In fact, you actively _discouraged_ me from waiting for you." Lance chuckles.

Keith makes another distressed noise. "I still ruined our date."

Lance just makes a nonchalant  _psh_ in reply. "Nah."

For whatever reason, this only makes Keith flush brighter. "'Nah'?  _'Nah'?_ Lance, I ditched you.  _For over an hour._ "

"I'd hardly say you  _ditched_ me—you didn't exactly have a choice in the matter. Besides," his smile turns from genuine to playful as he waggles his useless phone at Keith, "you still kept me company."

Keith regards him warily, one eyebrow raised, the other pressed down adorably. "You're not...mad?"

Lance shakes his head, smile growing.

" _At all?_ "

Another shake.

"And you don't just...want to go home?"

That one makes Lance falter. "Not unless you want to!" he squeaks, cheeks flushing.

The transition from pretty pink to beet red is  _magical_. "No!" Keith rushes out a little too quick. "I-I mean, I'm still—that is—" He groans and covers his face with both hands.

Lance can't help but laugh, the sound full of affection. "Well," he offers teasingly, "if you're  _sure_ you're still not sick of me yet—"

" _Of course not!_ "

They both pause; Lance caught off guard by his outburst, Keith mortified by it. Another chuckle bubbles out of Lance while Keith tries to hide behind his popped jacket collar with another miserable groan.

"Then," Lance laughs, unable and unwilling to stop that wonderful feeling from swelling around his ribs again, "I actually _do_ have another activity planned, if you're up for it."

Keith peaks out from his jacket, wearing a fondly annoyed look at Lance's continued use of the word  _activity_. "Oh?"

Lance nods sagely, slipping his free arm through the unused backpack strap. "Yep! But it's a surprise, so you're going to have to trust me."

" _Surprise_ , huh?" he glances behind Lance. "Am I finally going to find out what's in that damn bag?"

Lance grins. "Maybe."

Keith just rolls his eyes. Lance extends a bent elbow to him and he links their arms together as they make towards the exit. Keith hums. "You've hyped that thing pretty hard. This surprise better be worth it."

Lance shoots him a teasing grin. "Worth it like the ice cream?"

Keith turns red again. " _Don't._ "

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To give you an idea of how much I struggled with this chapter: my original goal was to get part THREE of this series done by Valentine's. My new goal is to have THIS fic done before s5 drops on March 2. -_-  
> I s2g I've written like, more than 10 versions of this goddamn chapter idk why this one gave me so much trouble. Hopefully the final product is worth the wait.

"So do you suddenly have a motorcycle license, or are you going to tell me where we're going?"

Lance snorts as he climbs onto the bike behind Keith. They'd left the mall to find the outside world already in the final throes of twilight. It shouldn't have been that shocking, given that it's December and the sun sets at, like, five, but apparently Keith is just as bad at keeping track of time as Lance is.

"Just make your way over to Park Road and head north from there."

Keith stiffens just as Lance wraps his arms around him. "What'd I say about avoiding Park?" he rasps.

Lance just rolls his eyes. "It's  _fine_. Do you really think your manager is going to be looming by the front door,  _straining_ to watch traffic in the dark on the off chance he'll catch you playing hooky?"

"I wouldn't put it past Kol..." Keith mutters as he revs the engine to life.

"He totally bought your act. As far as he knows, you're at home, in bed, sick as a dog."

"More like a puppy..." Keith mumbles. Lance grins. He thinks Keith didn't mean for him to hear that but he did and god  _damn_ if he isn't the cutest date Lance has ever had.

Traffic getting out of the sprawling parking lot turns out to be the worst of it. Everyone and their mother seems to be getting off work now and scrambling to get last minute holiday shopping done, but once they're free of the general radius of the mall, it's all smooth sailing. Lance is glad his Super Secret Date Destination is  _away_ from all the residential and shopping areas—traffic going the other way is practically at a standstill.

As the last threads of sunlight finally fade away, streetlights flicker on around them and cast the world in a washed-out fluorescent glow; a stark contrast to the soft light that it replaces. Before Lance knows it, they're making the turn onto Park and Keith is suddenly and expertly steering the bike one-handed in order to flip the bird off to their right. Lance follows the finger and cackles: that must be the infamous craft store he works at. Lance mimics the driver, flipping off the accursed retail giant until he can no longer angle his arm properly. To his credit, though, Lance practically hangs off the back of the bike, yelling, "Suck it, Kol!" as they pass. Keith laughs so hard that Lance is sure they'll crash. Totally worth it, though.

They continue heading north, leaving civilization further and further behind. Streetlights become few and far between and the only houses they pass are separated by long stretches of barren farmland. Lance notices there's no longer any cars going the other way, and none behind them either. They're completely alone. It feels like they've entered a liminal space, somewhere after the Wal-Mart, probably. It's eerily quiet, the roar of their engine the only sound for miles. Without other signs of life, it starts to feel like they might be the only two souls left in the world.

Lance becomes so entranced with the intimate atmosphere that he nearly misses their turn.

"Up there—go left." He points past Keith, to a faint red light blinking dimly ahead of them.

Keith complies, and comes to a stop in front of a lowered gate. Lance hops off, half-jogging to the long metal pole. The red and white painted stripes are weathered and faded, exposed bits of bare metal rusting in places. Lance slides his hands under the gate, right underneath the little red warning light. He hikes it up over his shoulder, high enough for Keith to drive under.

Keith gives him a look.

Lance waves him in.

"Are we going to get arrested?"

"Probably not." Lance shrugs

Keith lets out a heavy sigh but rolls the bike forward anyway, ducking slightly despite the foot and a half of clearance Lance gives him. Once he's past, Lance gently lowers the gate again before trotting back to snuggle into his favorite position behind Keith.

Keith remains idling for a long moment, gazing at the unlit road and sea of trees before them. He hesitantly accelerates into the inky abyss, slow enough to keep the engine at a low rumble lest they be discovered trespassing. They continue on for long minutes, the headlight of the bike their only light source. The trees around them finally break to reveal a massive clearing of open fields and twisting roads. Off one of the paths, Lance can just barely make out the dark silhouette of the visitor's center. Keith seems to notice it as well.

"Wait, I know this place—I used to go sledding here as a kid."

"On the big hill by the arrowhead trail?"

Keith pauses. He twists around to face Lance. "Yeah, actually. How did you—"

"Great! That's actually where we're going!"

Keith blinks at him and Lance hopes whatever emotion is behind that wide-eyed look is a good one.

They voyage deeper into the park, past countless more trees and open fields. The road splits several more times, empty pavilions and playgrounds looming darkly but harmlessly off the paths not taken. Keith doesn't offer any more conversation and Lance starts to fidget behind him. _Okay, so maybe it wasn't a good emotion then, fuck._

At long last, they turn off into a narrow lot, parking right in front of an old wooden sign with an arrowhead carved into it. Keith kills the engine, their solitary headlight dying along with it and bathing them in total darkness. Lance pulls the helmet off and wills his eyes to adjust faster. As they do, he can start to make out Keith's form, hunched over the handlebars, leaning on his arms and staring ahead wordlessly at the tall dark hill before them.

_Yep, definitely not a good one._

Lance rises from the bike but doesn't immediately pull Keith from his reverie. He stands back, giving him some space. After what he deems to be an appropriately long melancholy moment, he extends an open hand.

"Ready?" he asks softly.

Keith gives a small start and turns to face Lance. His pupils are blown adorably wide in the low light and Lance can't help but grin at him. Keith glances from his face down to his hand: a tiny smile melts over his lips as he gingerly places his hand in Lance's.

"Yeah."

Lance leads him up the slopping hill. Neither says a word as they take long strides, feet crunching the stiff grass with each step. Lance can feel his heart speed up the moment he sees the crest of the hill. Behind him, he hears Keith's quickened breaths and a small chuckle from the other boy and realizes he started tugging him along faster, unable to contain his excitement. Lance is completely unapologetic for his haste, though, because the second the ground evens out beneath his feet, he takes a deep breath—crisp night air stinging his lungs—and turns his gaze skyward.

"Stargazing?" Keith asks, quiet and gentle and much closer than Lance expected.

A dopey grin spreads across his face. "Yeah..." he sighs dreamily; Keith chuckles softly. Lance is so freaking lucky. Not just because Keith is amazing and this is the best day of his life, but because the sky is perfectly clear. There's not a single cloud in sight to mar their spectacular view of the heavens. It's breathtaking. A billion brilliant stars twinkle all around them, disappearing just shy of the horizon behind the outline of the forest. As much as he misses Miami, he has to admit, being 900 feet above sea level certainly has its perks.

He takes another moment to admire the perfect view before turning back to Keith, who is (much to Lance's delight), also enraptured by the stars. Lance shucks off the backpack and hands it to Keith; he hesitantly accepts the bag and gives Lance a questioning look. Lance just grins and wiggles his eyebrows; he begins to shuffle his shoulders in a little dance.

Ever so slowly, he pulls the zipper open with mock-seduction. Keith shakes his head and rolls his eyes, but can't hide his amused little smile. Lance digs to the bottom of the bag, pulling out a large white picnic blanket in three hard tugs. He bends over to spread it out next to them, meticulously smoothing out all the bumps and folds before snapping back up to Keith. Keith gives him an unimpressed smirk.

Lance sways his hips to an imaginary beat as he continues the pseudo-striptease, reaching in with both hands to pull out the black and red plaid blanket he got at the mall. He closes his eyes and pretends to moan as he rubs the fleece over his chest. He locks eyes with Keith, grins, and gracelessly tosses the blanket over his shoulder. That one earns him a laugh.

Next, he brings out a red scarf in one long, comically sensual pull, and wraps it around Keith.

"Really?" he laughs as he tugs the fuzzy material away from his mouth.

Lance nods, not breaking the rhythm of his little dance. "Really really." he says in a terrible Scottish accent as he pulls a matching red beanie over Keith's head. Keith snorts, tugging his trapped bangs away from his eyes.

Lance dangles a pair of gloves in his face. Keith rolls his eyes and snatches them away.

"Aw c'mon," Lance pouts, "I don't care how hot you are—you'll catch cold out here in that ridiculous jacket."

"You mean _how hot I run?_ Because yeah, I'm a human furnace. And besides, it's not even that cold out here."

"I know what I said."

Keith is right, though—it's not actually that cold. Well, it _is—_ it's probably low-40s or high-30s—but with no breeze to create windchill, it's surprisingly bearable. Another bit of karmic luck for Lance.

Keith makes a stiff, forced laugh. "Stop it." he mumbles.

Lance finishes wrapping a similar blue scarf around himself like a stealthless ninja and pauses his dance, quirking his head to the side. "Stop what?"

He watches as Keith begrudgingly pulls the red gloves on over the fingerless ones he already wears. "I already like you," he sighs, not looking at Lance, "you don't need to butter me up with fake compliments."

"Fake com...? What? No, I meant what I said—you're like,  _super hot_ , dude."

Keith gives him a flat look.

Lance huffs, plopping down onto the picnic blanket. "I refuse to believe someone as pretty as you doesn't know how good they look."

"Believe what you want, but it doesn't make it true."

Lance groans and reaches for the fleece blanket, pulling it into his lap. "Alright, how 'bout this? Let's play a game called Truth. It's like Truth or Dare, but without the dare."

"That just sounds like honesty."

"No, it's a game of being straight with each other."

Keith snorts. "I'm not straight."

"Yes! Like that!" Lance laughs. "Okay, I'll go first." He obnoxiously clears his throat. "Keith, how would you label yourself?"

He rolls his eyes. "Gay as the Fourth of July."

Lance giggles and flaps his hand. "Perfect! Okay, now you get to ask something and I have to answer honestly."

Keith hums and pretends like he has to think about his question. "You...really think I'm attractive?" he asks quietly, absently playing with the frayed corner of the blanket.

Lance exhales slowly, waiting for Keith to look at him before he answers. "Yes." he says, voice soft but firm. "Holy shit,  _yes_." he laughs with a huge grin. "Keith, buddy, you forget I've seen you  _shirtless._ _Dios mio_ , boy, you're chiseled from marble." Keith turns bright red and looks away again; Lance can't help but laugh. "And then there's all... _this._ " He gestures vaguely at his face. " _God_ , Keith. You're literally the prettiest person I've ever met."

"You're just saying that..." he mumbles.

Lance places one hand over his heart and raises the other in a scout salute. "I swear to you on the incredibly old and well known game of Truth that I am 100% most certainly  _ **not** just saying that._ "

The smile Keith gives him is small but genuine, and shyly grateful.

"Okay, my turn." Lance says softly and lowers his hands. "Why is it so hard for you to believe that?"

Keith's smile turns sad as he looks away again, once more pulling at the loose threads of the picnic blanket. He shrugs. "Just...years of people telling me I have Resting Bitch Face, I guess..." All pretense falls off his lips as he continues. "That I look pissed,  _constipated..._ That my clothes are ratty or my hair's too long and shaggy..." He huffs out a humorless laugh. "And then I was always getting into fights, so you can just imagine all the  _lovely_ bruises I've sported over the years..."

Lance leans over him to pull his hand—and attention—away from the blanket and back to him. "Sounds like a bunch of rich little shitheads."

Keith laughs. "Yeah."

Lance hums, holding Keith's hand between both of his and playing with his fingers. "My family wasn't exactly well-off growing up either. I'm the youngest of seven, remember; hand-me-downs were like, my entire wardrobe." Lance gives a small chuckle. "Maybe that's why I have so many goddamn clothes now."

Keith breathes a laugh as well. Lance smiles and laces their fingers together. "You're beautiful, Keith." he says, soft and earnest. "And I bet you were pretty damn cute as a scruffy little punk too."

That one makes Keith really laugh. "I lost one of my front teeth in a fight in second grade." he offers. "It took more than a year for my adult tooth to grow in."

Lance laughs just as loudly, whole body shaking. " _Oh my God_ , see? Fucking  _adorable._ "

Keith hums, a huge smile betraying him. "More like... _scrappy_..." He watches as Lance starts rifling through the backpack again. "What's that?" he asks as he pulls out a long blue thermos.

Lance grins and waggles both the thermos and his eyebrows. "Hot chocolate. And don't worry, it was made with water instead of milk—"

"Oh thank God."

"—So not as delicious but at least it won't kill you." He grins and twists a cup off the top and bottom of the thermos. "And you know that asking that used your next question, right?"

"We're still playing?"

"Yes. And that's two questions now."

"Uh, _no._ You  _asked_ if I knew I used a question. That was a question."

Lance feigns shock, holding one cup to his chest dramatically. "You hustled me!"

Keith laughs. "Just ask me something."

Lance hums while pouring the first cup, steam rising into the cold night air. "How old are you?"

"23." He accepts the cocoa from Lance. "You?"

"22, and you just gave me another question."

Keith curses under his breath.

Lance chuckles and pours a cup for himself. "How old is Baloo?"

"She'll be five this spring." His smile is somewhere between playful and confused. "Now it's... _my_ turn." he says, careful to sound definitive.

Lance nods. "It is. But first—" He takes something crinkly out of the backpack and hides it behind his back coyly. "You know, this morning I agonized over having so little time to get ready for this date—"

"You had _three hours_."

"Which is no time at all!" he bemoans with an over-played sob. "And one of the questions I kept asking myself was, 'Should I buy him flowers?'"

Keith's eyebrows shoot up his forehead. "You didn't."

Lance grins mischievously. "Happy First Date!" He reveals the parcel in his hand: an intricately layered white rosebud made of...

"Is that..." Keith can't hold back a snicker. "A marshmallow?"

Lance nods proudly and unwraps the confection. "I saw it in a chocolate shop and couldn't resist. Hang on, it gets better." He places the bud in Keith's cup and within seconds the flower starts to bloom, petals unraveling in the hot liquid.

Keith can't hold back his bemused smile. "Okay, that's... That's pretty cute."

"Right?" Lance grins as he places an identical marshmallow in his own drink. "I almost got you a bouquet of chocolate roses too, but then thought it might be a bit much."

Keith takes a sip of his drink. "Nah."

Lance quirks an eyebrow at him. " _Nah_ as in _,_ not too much chocolate, or  _nah,_ not too clichéd?"

Keith locks eyes with him as he takes another long sip. "Nah." he repeats quietly, smirking. Lance doesn't think his grin can get any wider. "Like I said," Keith runs his thumbs over the rim of the plastic cup, "I've...never been spoiled before." He turns a shy smile to Lance. "It's nice."

Lance was wrong, it seems he  _can_ stretch his smile more. His entire face hurts, cheeks aching like they'll fall off at any second but _Lord,_ what did he do to deserve Keith?

Keith laughs; Lance flushes as he realizes he asked that out loud.

"Not your turn to ask a question." Keith winks at him.  _Dios_ , Lance didn't realize he'd come out here to be murdered but here he is, Found Dead In Not Miami, and he doesn't regret a second spent with his killer. Keith clears his throat, grabbing Lance's attention. He looks nervous all of a sudden. "Can I ask... I mean..." He looks unsure, lips caught between a frown and a smile. "Why did you ask me out?"

Lance pauses, surprise written all over his face in metaphorical thick black sharpie. "Actually..." He easily melts back into a warm, fond smile. "It wasn't because I thought you were hot, or because I was grateful to you for finding Missy... You were angry at me." Keith looks just as confused as Lance expected him to; he laughs softly. "My dumb cat nearly cost you Baloo—you had every right to be pissed, but...you weren't. You were  _snippy_ , sure, but you saw how upset I was over Missy and you...comforted me. You reassured me that we'd find her— _together_. It was my fault that you were even out there—I was literally the cause of all your problems. You  _wanted_ to be angry with me—I could see it—but... You pushed that aside. You put away all your personal feelings to empathize with not only a stranger, but the stranger responsible for your dog running off." He pauses to give Keith a warm smile. "That meant something to me. It meant _a lot_. I thought, 'this is someone I want in my life.' ...Also your laugh is like,  _so_ cute."

Keith stares at him, eyes wide and filled with stars. "Wow." he rasps. He clears his throat and nervously tugs his bangs out of his eyes again. "I..." His voice still cracks and he clears his throat again. "I'm glad you like my laugh? I..." He sighs. "You asked what you did to deserve me but... I honestly had the same question myself. I wish I could say something as deep or meaningful as why you asked me out, but..." His smile feels oddly bittersweet for the moment as he gives Lance a shrug. "You made me laugh."

Lance's lips curl into a gentle smile. "I liked hearing it." Keith huffs out a chuckle; Lance gives him a toothy grin.

"I...couldn't remember the last time I laughed that much." he continues quietly. "Moving in with Coran...wasn't exactly a high point in my life. The accident, not being able to finish school—and then I couldn't even support myself, I..." He shakes his head, eyes wandering back up to meet Lance's. "I know I've gotten a lot of support—from Shiro and Allura and Coran—and Baloo. And I'm _so_ grateful for that, but..." He shrugs helplessly. "These last few years have been hard. And I guess I'd just...gotten  _used_ to things being shitty, and I didn't even realize  _how_ used to it I was because when I met you..."

Lance holds his breath, eyes wide as he holds Keith's gaze. Keith's lips stay parted slightly, like the words cling to the tip of his tongue but refuse to leave his mouth. He swallows and lets his eyes fall away.

"Until I met you, I'd forgotten what it felt like to be  _happy_."

The admission is quiet, soft, nearly lost to the night, and yet his words hang in the air. They ring loudly against Lance's ears, echoing beautifully like cathedral bells singing the time. If, at any point today, Lance had been unable to put a name to the warm, airy feeling that swelled in his chest and pushed his ribs apart, he's certain that he knows it now.

Love.

He loves Keith.

The realization feels as natural as the seasons, like the feeling had always been there, like a bulb waiting to sprout. Maybe it should be terrifying, to love someone he hasn't known a full day, but Lance can't imagine not knowing Keith any more than he can imagine a year without winter, even though he's lived nearly his entire life without either.

"I'm glad," he says at last. He carefully moves his hand to Keith's. "You deserve to be happy."

Keith smiles and Lance is rewarded with the other boy twining their fingers together. They stay like that for a long moment, sitting in comfortable silence. Lance strokes his thumb over Keith's knuckles, listening to his steady, contented breathing.

He stares ahead, admiring the stars. "Who's turn is it?" he asks quietly.

Keith chuckles beside him. "Does it matter?"

Lance smiles. "Ask me something."

Keith hums, playing with Lance's hand. "Name a constellation for me?"

"Where would I even start?"

Keith's eyes scan the heavens. "That bright star, a little to the right."

Lance uses his unoccupied hand to point westward. "That one?"

"No," Keith leans over, relinquishing Lance's hand in favor of taking his pointed one. He extends his index finger over top Lance's and gently guides their line of sight north across the Milky Way. "There."

Lance smiles, shifting slightly to let his head rest against Keith's shoulder. "Vega." He maneuvers their hands to trace the slanted box of stars that trail below. "Part of the constellation Lyra."

Keith hums, finishing off his cocoa, careful not to disturbed Lance's comfortable position. "What about the one you pointed to?"

"Altair, the twelfth brightest star in the sky. It's a part of Aquila the Eagle."

Keith moves their hands, craning his neck and pointing nearly straight above them. He zigzags their pointing fingers. "That one?"

Lance smiles. "Cassiopeia, the Seated Queen."

Keith bends backwards even further. "That cluster."

"Pleiades—the Seven Sisters."

They fall back completely, flopping down on the blanket, clasped hands resting between their heads. "Between Rigel and Betelgeuse."

"Okay, now I know you're fucking with me." Lance laughs.

"What?" Keith says, voice dripping with feigned innocence.

"Orion. Everybody know Orion." He shifts to smirk at Keith. "But not everyone knows Rigel and Betelgeuse."

Keith grins guiltily, turning to gaze up at the stars again. "Fine, you got me. I may know a thing or two about the night sky."

Lance chuckles softly. "Why'd you ask me to name constellations if you already knew them?"

Keith doesn't answer right away. Instead he just watches the slow turn of the Earth, eyes following the flow of the Milky Way. Lance studies him, admiring the way his eyes shine like galaxies, the way his pale skin practically glows in the starlight.

"I like the way you talk about space." Keith admits quietly. "I like how passionate you are about it." He closes his eyes, an easy smile crossing his lips.

Lance hums in thought, eyes tracing every inch of Keith's profile, trying to memorize every curve and contour. "I like the way you talk about art."

Keith's eyes slide open and he turns onto his side to face Lance. "Really?"

Lance nods, shifting as well so they lay face to face. He reaches down, not breaking eye contact while he gropes blindly for the heavy fleece blanket trapped between his legs. "Dude, just listening to you go on about the influence of Chinese art in Bambi is mesmerizing. I don't even like Bambi."

Keith laughs, helping Lance pull the blanket over the both of them with only their free hands, refusing to let go with the other. "You don't like Bambi?"

Lance can only shrug halfheartedly while putting the finishing touches on their lazy blanket burrito. "I saw it once when I was really little and couldn't stop crying for like, a  _week._ "

Keith snorts, rolling enough to press his face into the picnic blanket beneath them. "I'm no better. I had a similar experience with Fox and the Hound."

"I don't think I've ever seen that one."

" _Don't_. It's like ten dead Bambi moms rolled into one."

Lance cackles, inching closer and closer until his forehead finds Keith's. The other boy sighs, his warm breath brushing Lance's lips. Keith's eyes fall shut again. He looks so peaceful that Lance starts to wonder if maybe he's fallen asleep.

"Thank you for bringing me here." he whispers after a few beats of silence.

Lance smiles. "Thank you for not questioning my Super Secret Date Activity."

Keith smirks, eyes still closed. "I don't think I would've ever come back here on my own."

"I thought you used to go sledding here? This seems like a pretty bomb-ass hill to sled down."

Keith's smile fades just a little. He opens his mouth to speak, but stops just short of actual words. Instead, he releases a frustrated sigh and squeezes Lance's hand.

Lance suddenly remembers the way Keith looked earlier; sad, hurt. "It's okay. Whatever it is, you don't have to tell me."

Keith finally opens his eyes; they're glossy with the barest hint of a watery sheen. "But I  _want_ to." His voice is quiet, but his determination is perfectly clear.

Lance stays silent, eyes never leaving Keith's.

"I don't think I would've come back here on my own because... Because I had forgotten I even used to. That I used to come here with..." Keith takes a deep, shaky breath, a single tear slipping down his cheek and falling into his bunched up scarf. "With my mom."

It takes Lance a moment to process the words. His brain drudges up one of their earlier conversations and the words  _'_ _just Shiro'_ echo around his head. He inhales sharply. "Keith, I didn't—I'm so sorry—"

Keith shakes his head slowly, his bangs falling over his eyes, but he smiles. Softly, and just for Lance. "It's okay. I..." He sighs again. "Like I said, I had forgotten. I didn't even know it was something I remembered until we came here—when you were talking about the hill and the trail and I—" He laughs. It's wet and broken and honest to God the most beautiful sound Lance has ever heard in his life. Keith's smile stretches so wide it crinkles the corners of his eyes, even as another tear escapes him. " _Thank you,_ Lance. Some days, I can't remember her face, or the sound of her voice. But now I remember sledding with her—what it felt like to have her arms around me, to be held close. To laugh with her." He squeezes their hands. "Thanks to _you_."

Lance doesn't realize he's also crying until a particularly hard sniffle shakes a tear off his nose to drop onto his other cheek. What does he say to that? What  _can_ he say? Why did the implication of  _stepbrother_ fly over his head before? How could he carelessly talk about his family even after Keith told him he  _only_ had Shiro? Lance hadn't even considered the possibility that Keith's parents were gone. Because if it's  _just Shiro_ , then his  _dad..._

Lance hiccups wetly, gasping for breath as his tears stream down his face.

He can't imagine what Keith has gone through. Lance has _so much_ family that he feels suffocated by them at times. But for Keith, who only has Shiro, who can't remember his mother's voice, who hasn't even  _mentioned_ his father... Who moved to a city alone the second he turned 18. Who tried and failed to be financially independent. Who...

Never mentioned even having friends.

Lance gasps, lips trembling. Every odd look, every awkward beat and sudden silence finally made sense. When Lance talked about his friends, his family—his  _home..._  That strange expression Keith wore was so... So...

Lonely.

Keith was alone.

He had his dog, his brother, and a broken dream, and nothing else. A shitty job and a lousy income, and an unfounded guilt that he wasn't  _enough_.  _'I bounced around a lot as a kid.' 'Prove I'm not just a burden.'_ How many foster homes had he been through? How many times had he been kicked out? Abandoned? And kids made fun of his clothes? His hair, his face? _'I was always getting into fights.'_

Lance has never felt this way, has never felt this  _burning_ in his chest, his blood pumping and fingers tingling.

He's  _furious._

How  _dare_ this sweet boy be put through any of that. How dare the world be so unjustly cruel to someone who cares so  _deeply_   for others. Now more than ever, Lance wants Keith in his life. He wants to plant him by his side and let him grow roots. He wants him to meet his friends, to get bear hugs from Hunk and gossip with Pidge. He wants to steal him away to Florida, so his mother can fuss over him and cook him five meals a day, so his abuela can hand knit him itchy sweaters and darn his socks, so all 21 of his nieces and nephews can dogpile him and let him know that he is  _wanted._

He grabs Keith without thinking, just lunges for him, wrapping his arms around him tightly, tangling their legs and destroying their burrito. He buries his face in Keith's neck and resolves to never to let go.

And he still doesn't know what to say.

Keith's initial surprise fades quickly as he sinks into the embrace, his own arms coming to rest on Lance's back. He sighs, soft and content and obviously not suffering the same maelstrom of emotions that Lance is. If anything, he's the one comforting  _Lance_ , rubbing small circles between his shoulders and humming softly. How did Lance get this backwards?

"I'm sorry." he croaks, and can feel the chuckle that ripples through Keith's chest. "I—no, not _me_. You!" Lance pulls back just far enough to look Keith in the eye and is surprised to find the other boy just as tear-streaked as Lance knows he is, yet still somehow smiling. "Keith, you... You..." he flails uselessly, words evading his grasp like smoke between his fingers.

Keith's smile widens. "I think you had it right the first time. _You_ brought me here, Lance. _You_ helped me remember. You gave me an even better memory of this place."

Lance shakes his head. "I didn't do anything."

Keith's smile is impossibly sweet as he cups Lance's face and thumbs away more tears. "You cared."

Lance didn't mean to do what he did next. He didn't mean to any more than he hadn't meant to be a blubbering mess or open old wounds again and again on this date. But nevertheless, without even realizing he's moving, Lance pulls Keith in and closes the short distance between their lips.

If Lance was being honest, he 100% planned on kissing Keith tonight, but at the end, and on someone's doorstep. It was supposed to be romantic, and maybe a little clichéd. But again, if he's being honest, laying together beneath the stars on a cold winter night, holding each other like a lifeline—well, Lance can't imagine anything even half as romantic or perfect as this.

Their kiss, if nothing else, is long. There is no desperation, no tongue, no heat—just a simple press of chapped but warm lips, fitting together like two halves of a whole, unwilling to separate when they'd only just become complete again. But they do break, eventually, and stay so close their eyes cross just to look at each other. Lance is fairly certain he's still crying, though now he thinks it has more to do with the overwhelming swarm of butterflies doing backflips in his insides. Keith, at least, has managed to dry his tears. His eyes are red-rimmed and puffy but Lance doesn't think he's ever looked more beautiful the whole day because he just looks so damn  _happy._ Like being right here with Lance is the best thing that's ever happened to him.

When Lance finally finds his voice again, he cracks a smile that's far too fond for the teasing words that follow. "Some first date, huh?"

Keith laughs, boisterous and hearty and so unbelievably  _happy._ It's Lance's favorite sound in the entire universe.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The author also 100% planned to have them kiss on a doorstep, all romantic and clichéd, but writing is hard and then this happened, so.  
> I just hope I can craft the last chapter to fit in the punchline. *sobs*


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In before season 5, thank god. OTL  
> I fit in the punchline. I'm so happy.

It's late, and it's cold, but there's still so much left of the sky for Lance to talk about. Stars and constellations, galaxies, a lack of planets ("They're all morning sky objects right now"). He could go on for hours, and if Keith already knows any of the fun facts Lance so happily shares, he doesn't say a word. They cocoon themselves in their burrito again, doubling up like a crunchwrap with the excess of the picnic blanket beneath them. Keith chugs the rest of the now lukewarm cocoa straight from the thermos as Lance babbles away excitedly. They stay like that for a long while, sharing body heat and small touches, and more smiles than Lance would've ever thought possible. They probably would've stayed out there until dawn had a heavy cloud cover not crept up on them from the east.

Reluctantly, they pack up their things and head back to the bike. The wind starts to pick up when they're about halfway down the hill, so Lance, with a dramatic fuss, wraps his arms around Keith and lifts him up, running the rest of the way. His antics are met with shrieking laughter and halfhearted demands to be put down.

"But it's  _cold!"_  Lance whines as they clamber onto the bike.

Keith snorts and tugs his accessories off one by one, wrapping them around Lance instead. Lance gasps indignantly as he adjusts the hat and second scarf.

"But now  _you'll_ be cold!" he huffs.

Keith grins, hands catching in the bundled mess of scarves around Lance's neck. His sharp inhale and little tug says he would very much like to kiss the pout off Lance's lips, but he restrains himself. Lance pouts harder.

"I run warm, remember? I could do without the extra layers." He laughs as Lance puffs out his cheeks and sticks his tongue out defiantly.

Despite his claims, he can feel Keith shivering in his arms as they drive back to the front gate. Maybe that's why their journey out of the park is far less inconspicuous than their ride in. Keith doesn't seem to care about the loud engine attracting unwanted attention this time, not when the cold wind is biting at his face.

There's not a single car on the road. Lance absently wonders just how late it is and why reds still exist at this ungodly hour when they're the only ones at the light. On the other hand, each time they get stuck at a timed light, instead of just saying  _fuck it_ and running it, Keith takes the opportunity to let go of the steering and let his hands find Lance's. It's a sweet, intimate gesture, but it's also absurdly cold out. Lance just wants to get home...

_Oh._

Keith is drawing out the ride on purpose. The light they're currently sitting at turns green, and Keith takes an extra long second to grip the handlebars and accelerate. Lance's heart clenches. _Home._  He suddenly realizes that Keith figured out that their night was coming to an end much quicker than Lance had, and now that the reality has sunk in, Lance is panicking. He tightens his hold around Keith. He's not ready to say goodbye, even though they're _them_ and given their brief but telling track record, they'll see each other again in no time. Today has been perfect, _magical,_ like a fairytale, and happily ever afters are great and all, but Lance would very much like to enjoy a bit more exposition before the pages run out.

But it's getting increasingly cold and late, and he's failing miserably to come up with any reason to delay their inevitable farewell. Maybe they could get a drink—wait, are any of the bars even still open? What time is it? Lance really wishes his phone hadn't died so he could at least check the damn time. Maybe a McDonald's run? Or an early breakfast at a Waffle House? Why do all these ideas involve food? Is Lance even hungry?

His mental tangent distracts him long enough that, before he knows it, they're turning off into their neighborhood.

Dammit.

Maybe it's better this way. Even though the wind seems to have died down, the temperature has plummeted at least ten degrees and Lance, even with his multiple warm layers and human furnace, is Suffering. Fine. Whatever. You win this time, hypothermia.

Much sooner than he'd like, and much to his surprise, Keith pulls up in front of Lance's house. Lance huffs and holds him tighter, refusing to get off the bike just yet.

"Don't you wanna go home first? I mean, you picked me up, it's only fair that I see you off..." he says hopefully.

Keith twists around in his grip just so Lance can watch him roll his eyes. "I'm not making you walk home in the cold." He pries Lance's arms off—with more ease than Lance would like to admit—and climbs off the bike.

Lance juts his lip out and shoots Keith a pouty glare. "You just don't want me to know where you live, do you?"

Keith snorts. "How 'bout this," he chirps, grinning. "Second date can be at my house."

Lance grins devilishly. He swings a leg over the bike and, in one gracefully fluid motion, goes from sitting to standing toe-to-toe with Keith. He leans in close enough to feel the heat radiate off of the other boy's face. "Are you suggesting Netflix and Chill?"

Lance takes great satisfaction in the pink flush of Keith's cheeks as he splutters an incoherent response, voice crackling in that wonderfully embarrassed way again. He stumbles backwards and nearly trips over the curb.

Lance cackles and catches him, pulling Keith to his chest. "Sorry, sorry," he laughs, "I was just teasing."

Keith groans, burying his face against Lance and clutching his shoulders. " _I didn't mean it like that._ " he mutters hotly.

Lance pats his head sympathetically. "I know."

Keith makes another indignant sound but doesn't remove himself from Lance; Lance takes the opportunity to sway them gently in place while Keith pouts. After a few long moments, he relaxes into the embrace, hands sliding down from Lance's shoulders to wrap around his waist. Lance hums in approval, a warm smile spreading across his lips as Keith shifts to tuck his head under Lance's chin.

"Weren't we saying goodnight?" Lance whispers softly.

Keith makes an annoyed grunt. Lance laughs.

"I don't have class tomorrow." he practically sings with a sweet, tempting lilt. "I'm on winter break."

Keith damn near  _whines_. "I have work." he grumbles.

"Call out."

"Can't."

"They already think you're sick. It takes more than a single day to recover."

Lance can  _hear_ the internal struggle in the noise Keith makes. "Need the money."

Before Lance can make any more flawless counterpoints, Keith pushes him away, stiff arms keeping them at a distance. His face is burning red when he looks at Lance.

" _Goodnight, Lance._ " he grits out stubbornly, like it pains him to follow his own sensible reasoning. His tense arms fall away and he makes to get back on the bike.

Lance catches his shoulder and spins him around. "You're not going to walk me to my door?" he asks, quiet and sad, puppy eyes out in full force.

He's won. Lance can see Keith's resolve crumble away as his blush creeps higher up his cheeks. Lance grins and grabs his hand, practically skipping as he drags Keith up the steps and onto the porch. Once in front of his door, he twirls around and is momentarily taken aback by Keith's smile, so fond it makes his heart melt.

This is it. It's the end, they're on someone's doorstep, this is literally the perfect moment for a clichéd goodnight kiss. Lance stares deeply into Keith's eyes and leans in, he opens his mouth to say something incredibly romantic, but movement out the corner of his eye catches his attention. He looks over just in time to see the first few snowflakes land gently on the ground. His grin exponentially widens.

Snow. It's  _snowing!_ Huge, fat, soft snowflakes drift like cotton candy from the sky, like a damn snow globe _._ Sure he's lived here long enough to be used to snow, but he can count on one hand the number of times he's seen  _fluffy_ snow. It's already starting to build up a layer on the ground, making the yard look like one big pillow.

"Focus." Keith chuckles, using both hands to turn Lance's face—and attention—back to him. Keith's smile is impossibly soft. Lance curses the porch roof in that instant. What he wouldn't give to see those downy snowflakes stuck to Keith's eyelashes. "Okay, I walked you to your door."

Lance hums and slides his hands onto Keith's waist. "So you did."

Keith releases Lance's face in favor of draping his arms over his shoulders. He gives Lance a playful smirk. "We're just going to stand here again, aren't we?"

Lance leans in, bumping their foreheads. "I can think of at least one other thing we could be doing."

Keith makes another strangled noise and shifts to hide his face in Lance's shoulder as the taller boy laughs and holds him close. "Sorry," he chuckles apologetically. "I don't mean to push you, or..." Keith peaks up at him with narrowed eyes. Lance's throat suddenly feels dry as he tries to swallow. "O-or go _too fast_ , I just..."

Keith levels him with an incredulous look.

And then his hands are fisting into the scarves and Lance is being wrenched forward. Their lips meet in a spectacular crash of confusion and teeth, but then Keith tilts his head just so and it's  _perfect—_ totally different from their first kiss. Where their first kiss was gentle and cautious, this one is hot and desperate. Keith rises on his toes to press into it, his hands grappling for better purchase on the back of Lance's neck. A soft moan passes between their lips, but Lance has no idea which of them made the sound.

Keith breaks away with a gasp, face flushed and lips swollen. Lance can only stare, well aware that he must look just as dazed. Keith takes deep, hard breaths and Lance's inner butterfly comity throws a parade over the fact that kissing Lance _literally leaves Keith breathless._

Keith swallows and huffs one last time, adjusting Lance's scarves to buy himself a few extra seconds before speaking. "Kinda hard to go too fast when I'm already at terminal velocity." He lifts his eyes to meet Lance's and gives him a sheepishly tentative grin.

Lance's brain is still jet lagged from the sudden kiss, so it takes a moment for the words to sink in, but once they do, his smile splits his face clean in half. He responds by drawing Keith back in, hands cradling his face on either side. It earns him a surprised little squeak and a soft noise, and if this were a Disney movie (which Lance is totally convinced it is), someone's leg would be popped up right now.

"The feeling's mutual." he says softly against Keith's lips.

 _Meow_ , says the door.

Both boys pause and turn to stare at the door before dissolving into a fit of snorts and giggles as Missy makes another obnoxiously loud cry from the other side.

"The mistress has spoken." Keith chuckles.

Lance can only sigh, overly dramatic and amused. "I guess I should go feed her."

Keith hums, putting the finishing touches on his scarf adjustments. "Thank you, again. Today was," Keith bites his lip, "fun."

Lance can only nod, too overwhelmed with the fluttering swell in his chest to think up actual words. Before he can even open his mouth, Missy is screaming again.

Keith laughs, and no matter how many times he's heard it today, Lance doesn't think he'll ever get sick of the sound. "Okay, I'll see you later—"

"Oh! Hang on!" Lance leans away and swings the backpack over his shoulder so he can rummage through it. He takes out a well-loved lion squeaky toy—Baloo's squeaky toy—and hands it to Keith. "Almost forgot to return the hostage."

Keith blinks as he accepts the toy. "I completely forgot." he laughs, grin quickly returning. Lance barely has a second to register the playful glint in his eye before Keith is reaching up to plant another kiss on him. "My hero." he smiles against Lance's lips.

Lance's brain turns to mush. He can't help his goofy grin any more than he can help the bright blush painting his cheeks. He leans in for another kiss but Keith pulls away, fingertips lingering on his cheek.

"Goodnight, Lance."

Lance makes a pathetic little noise in the back of his throat. He has to grab the doorknob behind him to stop himself from following as Keith backs away. "Goodnight, Keith." he sighs, huge smile still in place despite his heart's protests.

"I'll text you."

"I'll charge my phone."

Keith laughs, but the pitch cuts high as he backs right off the porch and falls into the thick blanket of snow. "I'm okay!" he calls, laughing even harder before Lance can do anything more than jolt forward.

"You sure?"

He waves his arms in the air above him. "Yep!" He curls his knees to his chest, rocks backwards, forward—and expertly leaps to his feet. He's still laughing as he stumbles to his bike.

"Drive safe!" Lance calls out for good measure.

"I live like two streets away."

"You literally just fell off my porch."

A pause as he revs the bike to life. "...Fair point."

There's a moment where it feels like the world stops spinning, like they both hold their breath, both wanting to say something but neither sure what. If Lance were braver, he'd probably run down to meet him for one last kiss. Instead, the moment ends and the world starts again just as the bike begins to roll away. Lance falls against his own front door with a lovesick slump and a little wave.

Keith's answering wave is just as shy.

And then he's gone.

Lance stays there, gooey smile stuck to his face as he watches the snow fall. He stays until he can no longer make out the distant rumble of the motorcycle. With one last sigh, he fishes out his keys and goes inside. Missy immediately slithers around his ankles, crying loudly over a disjointed purr that's nearly as loud as Keith's bike.

"You're home late." Lance looks down the hall to find Hunk sitting at the kitchen table, eating cereal straight from the box. "How'd it go?"

Suddenly free from worry of embarrassing himself—because this is  _Hunk—_ Lance pulls the beanie off his head, making his hair stick up at an odd angle, and clutches the hat to his chest. He lets out a long, dreamy sigh as he falls onto the door and slides down to the floor.

"That good, huh?" Hunk shoves another handful of Froot Loops into his mouth and crunches loudly.

Lance turns his dopey grin to his friend. "He said he's at terminal velocity."

Hunk quirks an eyebrow and pauses chewing. "The drag of air resistance is equal to the downward force of gravity against him?"

Lance is too elated to give Hunk a properly exasperated look. "It means he can't fall any faster."

" _Ugh._ " Hunk stands, chair scraping the linoleum floor, and drops the cereal box on the table. " _Gross_." He steps over Lance's out stretched legs on his way upstairs, shaking his head and grumbling all the way.

Lance doesn't care. Hunk's sour act does nothing to dim his mood. By the time he makes it to his room and finds his charger, he already has four texts from Keith.

 

**12:29AM: hostage delivered**

 

The next three messages are a sequence of photos: a blurry gray blob that takes up the entire frame, a slightly less motion-blurred blob that looks distinctly like a dog trotting away with the lion toy in her mouth, and Baloo, perfectly in focus, curled protectively around her toy.

Lance smiles at his phone, stupid and fond. His thumbs hover over the keypad as he contemplates how to reply. Missy jumps up onto the bed and settles between his legs, presenting the perfect opportunity.

 

12:37AM: Culprit apprehended.

 

He snaps a quick photo of his cat, loosely caged by his legs, then another; a selfie of him holding her to his chest and giving her a kiss.

 

12:38AM: She's in custody.

 

Missy decides she's had enough of his shenanigans and kicks Lance in the face, squirming free of his hold. He recovers just in time to get a blurry picture of her running away.

 

12:38AM: Jailbreak!! 

**12:40AM: a life of crime is the only one she knows**

 

Lance grins, and is halfway through typing a similar reply when he notices the time. He quickly backspaces what he'd written.

 

12:42AM: You know I'd love to stay up all night discussing Missy's criminal history, but I'm going to honor your wishes and let you sleep.

**12:42AM: good idea. i work the opening shift. i have to be up in like 4 hours**

12:43AM: SDFGHJKUYREERUIL  
12:43AM: SERIOUSLY?!?  
12:43AM: KEEEEEIIITTHHHHH  
12:43AM: Why didn't you say something sooner??  
12:43AM: I kept you out WAY too late!!!

 **12:44AM: you already know the answer lol**  
**12:45AM: i was having too much fun ;)**

Lance's next keyboard mash is verbal as he smothers his splutter into his pillow.

12:45AM: UGH  
12:45AM: I GUESS

**12:46AM: <3**

 

Another shriek into his pillow.

 

12:47AM: ☐ ☐ ☐ ☐ ☐

**12:48: that sure is a lot of boxes**

 

Damn his emojiless flip phone.

 

12:48AM: <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

 **12:49AM: fuck**  
**12:49AM: how am i supposed to sleep now?**

12:50AM: Like a baby? Or a log?

**12:50AM: logs dont go into cardiac arrest**

12:51AM: AWWWW do I make ur heart race?

**12:51AM: stfu**

12:52AM: ☐  
12:53AM: *xD  
12:53AM: Go the fuck to sleep.

**12:54AM: i would, but this cute boy keeps texting me.**

12:54AM: ASDFGHJKIUYTGH  
12:55AM: GO TO SLEEP BEFORE I COME OVER THERE AND CUDDLE UR ASS TO SLEEP

 **12:56AM: oh no**  
**12:56AM: not cuddling**  
**12:57AM: what a terrible fate**  
**12:57AM: how will i possibly survive**

12:57AM: u nerd.

**12:58AM: ;p**

12:59AM: God just go to sleep  
12:59AM: I don't wanna be responsible for u passing out at work

 **01:00AM: worth it.**  
**01:00AM: talking to you will always be worth it. <3**

 

Lance nearly screams into his pillow. He's not sure if he has the willpower to resist throwing his shoes back on and making good on his threat.

 

01:01AM: good NIGHT cariño

 **01:01AM: ?**  
**01:02AM: im googling that when i wake up**

 

Lance cocks his head in confusion before he realizes his mistake. A mortified squeak leaves his mouth.

 

01:03AM: FUCK  
01:03AM: U SAW NOTHING

 **01:03AM: lmao**  
**01:04AM: sweet dreams lance <3**

 

Lance buries his face in his pillow, groaning a pathetically lovesick whine. He doesn't know how much more his heart can take. Thankfully, Keith stops replying after that, presumably because he fell asleep, but _Lord._ How many times can this boy murder Lance in a single day?

At least once more, apparently.

 

**05:30AM: good morning cariño**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading and leaving kudos and comments! They mean the world to me <333  
> In theory there's more to this au but I think I might take a break from it for a while.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to bug me on my [tumblr](applecherry108.tumblr.com).


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